A    LA 


CALIFORNIA 


SKETCHES    OF    LIFE 


IN  THE 


GOLDEN     STATE. 


By  COL.  ALBERT  S.  EVANS. 

Author  of  "  Our  Sister  Republic." 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY  COL.  W.  H.  L.  BARNES,  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS 
FROM  ORIGINAL  DRAWINGS  BY  ERNEST  NARJOT. 


SAN      FRANCISCO: 

A.    L.    BANCROFT   &   COMPANY, 

Publishers,  Booksellers  and  Stationers. 
1873. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1873, 

By  A.  L.  BANCROFT  &  COMPANY, 

In  the- office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


F  i 


TO  MY  MOTHER, 


IN  TOKEN  OF 


AFFECTIONATE    REMEMBRANCE, 


THIS  VOLUME  IS  DEDICATED 


HER    LONG   ABSENT    SON. 


'i 


v 


AUTHOR'S    PREFACE. 


Some  years  since  my  deeply  lamented  friend,  the  late  Albert  D. 
Richardson,  who  keenly  appreciated  Western  character,  called  my 
attention  to  the  fact  th£t  the  first  chapter  in  the  history  of  Cali- 
fornia, following  the  American  occupation  of  the  country,  and  the 
discovery  of  gold,  was  drawing  rapidly  to  a  close;  and,  under  the 
influence  of  railroads  and  the  telegraph,  and  the  influx  of  a  different 
class  of  immigrants  from  the  older  Atlantic  States,  society  would 
soon  lose  its  distinctive  character.  He  suggested  that  I  should  col- 
lect and  prepare  for  publication  a  portion  of  the  fund  of  anecdotes 
illustrative  of  the  reckless,  adventurous,  stirring  life  of  the  genera- 
tion now  passing  away,  which  he  knew  I  had  accumulated  from 
personal  observation,  believing  that  the  material  was  worth  preserv- 
ing, and  that  the  reading  public  would  appreciate  the  labor  and 
enjoy  the  perusal  of  the  book.  The  suggestion  struck  me  favorably; 
and  I  commenced  the  work  immediately,  following  it  until  the 
volume  was  more  than  half  completed,  when  I  was  called  away  to 
the  tropics,  and  the  project  was  for  the  time  abandoned.  It  is  only 
recently  that  I  have  been  able  to  resume  the  work  and  push  it  to 
completion.  I  have  not  endeavored  to  produce  a  statistical  work 
upon  California,  and  do  not  think  it  would  have  paid  me  if  I  had, 
but  to  give  a  vivid  and  truthful  picture  of  scenes  for  the  most  part 
unfamiliar  to  the  residents  of  the  older  States  of  the  Union,  avoid- 
ing, so  far  as  might  be,  traveling  in  the  beaten  track  of  tourists,  and 
the  discussion  of  subjects  already  grown  hackneyed  and  tiresome  to 
the  general  reader. 

The  book,  I  think,  will  repay  perusal,  and  if  it  does  not,  the 
reader  will  at  least  have  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  the  author 
is  after  all  the  greatest  loser  in  the  operation. 


OTTKODUCTION. 


My  lamented  friend,  Col.  Albert  S.  Evans,  was  engaged  upon 
this  book  for  some  time  prior  to  his  death.  Of  its  success  he  enter- 
tained confident  expectations,  and  had  spared  no  pains  to  render  it 
attractive  in  every  respect.  _ 

He  perished  in  the  unfortunate  disaster  by  which  the  steamship 
"  Missouri"  was  burned  at  sea  in  October,  1872,  while  on  her  passage 
from  New  York  towards  Havana;  and  his  work  has  thus  unexpect- 
edly fallen  on  those  who  had  no  other  thought  than  one  of  sympathy 
with  him  in  his  hopes  of  its  success,  financially  as  well  as  in  a  literary 
point  of  view. 

The  author  was  quite  widely  and  favorably  known  from  his  long 
connection  with  journalism  and  previous  literary  efforts.  To  a 
large  circle  of  friends  he  was  endeared  by  admirable  social  qualities 
and  a  career  of  unswerving  integrity.  Whatever  may  be  the  judg- 
ment of  careful  critics  as  to  the  merits  of  this  posthumous  publica- 
tion, to  those  who  knew  him  it  will  have  a  value  beyond  the  reach 
of  any  standard  of  letters.  It  is  the  final  and  unfinished  work  of 
his  day  of  life,  and  for  that  reason,  if  no  other,  they  will  cherish  it. 
It  is,  alas!  one  of  the  few  presently  available  resources  of  a  desolated 
family;  and  for  that  reason,  if  no  other,  they  will  cheerlully,  I  am 
sure,  contribute  towards  its  pecuniary  success. 

That  it  has  high  literary  merit,  will  not  be  doubted.  To  other 
than  Californian  readers  it  will  commend  itself  by  the  freshness 
and  vitality  of  its  style,  and  the  charming  though  rather  strongly 
localized  character  of  its  descriptions  and  incidents.  Doubtless 
there  is  somewhat  of  incompleteness  in  the  detail  and  final  arrange- 
ment of  its  parts,  which  would  have  been  remedied,  and  perhaps 


INTRODUCTION. 

remodeled,  had  Col.  Evans'  life  been  spared.  Still  his  friends  have 
not  thought  it  advisable  to  attempt  to  revise  or  change  it  for  better 
or  worse.  It  goes  to  the  press  and  the  reading  public  just  as  his 
own  hand  left  it — a  literary  orphan. 

To  those  who  may  have  to  deal  with  it  in  the  way  of  book 
notices,  may  be  suggested  the  propriety  of  distinguishing  between 
what  are  or  might  have  been  remediable  faults,  and  those  which 
are  inherent  in  the  nature  of  the  undertaking. 

To  the  public  of  our  own  city  and  State  it  commends  itself  as  a 
work  of  strong  local  interest,  embodying,  in  a  permanent  and 
attractive  form,  much  that  otherwise  would  have  early  perished 
from  sight  and  memory;  as  the  production  of  one  of  our  own 
citizens ;  as  the  resource  of  an  interesting  family,  which  has  been 
doubly  bereaved  in  the  sudden  death  of  husband  and  father;  and  it 
appeals  forcibly  to  that  sentiment  of  generous  sympathy  for  the 
living  and  regret  for  the  dead,  which  is  so  singularly  characteristic 
of  Californian  social  life. 

WM.  H.  L.  BARNES. 

San  Francisco,  May,  1873. 


CONTENTS. 


DEDICATION. INTRODUCTION. AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 

CHAPTER  I. 

MY  FIRST  PASEAR, 

The  Sierra  Morena,  and  the  Redwood  Forest  of  San  Mateo  and  Santa  Cruz. — 
The  Sportsman's  Paradise. — Looking  back  at  the  Golden  City. — Yester- 
day and  To-day. — Along  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco. — The  Valley  of  San 
Andreas. — Harry  Linden's  Speculation  in  Oats. — Good  Resolutions  and 
what  came  of  them. — A  Dream  of  Tropic  Life. — An  Evening  in  the 
Mountains. — A  Scene  of  Wonderful  Beauty. — The  Avalanche  from  the 
Pacific. — Descending  the  Mountain  by  Moonlight. — The  End  of  my 
Pasear. 

CHAPTER  II. 

IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 

The  Crystal  Springs.-4The  Music  of  the  Night.— {njeJTalifornia  Night  Singer 
and  the  Legend  ofihe  JEaster  Eggs.)— The  Canada  del  Reymundo. — Over 
--the~Sierfa^torena. — Down  the  Coast. — Pescadero  and  its  Surroundings. — 
Pigeon  Point  and  the  Wrecks. — A  Shipwrecked  Ghost. — The  Coast 
Whalers  and  their  Superstitions. — An  Embarcadero  on  the  San  Mateo 
Coast. — Ride  to  Point  Ano  Nuevo. 

CHAPTER  III. 

IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 

Steele's  Ranch. — The  Model  Dairy  of  California. — Captain  Graham. — A  Semi- 
Tropical  Garden.— Frightful  Contest  with  a  Grizzly. — Bear  and  for-Bear. 
The  True  King  of   Beasts.— The  Model  of  Conservatism.— How    the 


CONTEXTS. 

Hunters  lay  for  Bruin. — A  Foolhardy  Feat. — An  Adventure  on  the  San 
Joaquin. — A  Bear  on  a  Spree. — Don't  stand  on  ceremony  with  a  Bear. — 
How  a  Californian  Bear  entertained  a  Mexican  Bull. — How  Native  Cali- 
fornians  Lasso  the  Bear. — How  a  Yankee  did  it. — The  Bear  Ahead. — 
Pebble  Beach  of  Pescadero. — Cona. — The  oldest  Inhabitant. — Don  Felipe 
Armas. — Don  Salvador  Mosquito. — The  Man  who  was  a  Soldier. — A 
Hundred  Years  Ago. — Catching  Salmon  Trout. — Shooting  Sea-Lions. — 
Wild  Scene  on  the  Sea-Shore. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PESCADERO  TO  SANTA  CRUZ. 

Down  the  Coast  toward  Santa  Cruz. — The  Moss  and  Shell  Beaches  of  Pesca- 
dero.— A  Disgusted  Hunter. — A  Grizzly  Bear  Procession. — A  Mutual 
Surprise  and  Double  Stampede. — The  Bear  Fever. — The  Buck  Fever  and 
the  Prairie-Hen  Fever. — How  Jim  Wheeler  killed  the  Buck. — How  Old 
S.  killed  three  at  one  shot. — A  Spanish-American  Gentleman  of  Scientific 
Attainments  and  Undoubted  Veracity . — View  of  the  B  \y  of  Monterey  and 
the  Valley  and  Mountains  of  Santa  Cruz. 


CHAPTER  V. 

SANTA  CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

The  Bay  of  Santa  Cruz  and  its  Surroundings. — The  Natural  Bridge. — Mussel 
men,  their  Dangers  and  Delight. — Adventure  with  a  Sea-Lion. — Uninvited 
Guest  at  a  Pic-nic. — An  Embarcadero. — Sea  Bathing. — Big  Trees  of  Santa 
Cruz. — Caves. — Mountain  Rides. — Supposed  Ruins. — Up  the  Valley  of 
the  San  Lorenzo. — The  Mountain  Honeysuckle  and  Madrono. — Over  the 
Mountains  again. — The  Redwood. — And  what  a  Fall  was  there  my 
Countrymen! — How  they  broke  Jail. — Down  the  Valley  of  Los  Gatos.-- 
Strange  Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Streams  of  the  Coast  Range, — Out  of  the 
Wilderness. 

CHAPTER  Vl. 

IN  THE  STREETS  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

Cosmopolitanism  of  San  Francisco. — Its  Street  Panoramas  and  Pictures  and 
Sounds. — An  Autumn  Morning. — The  "Barbary  Coast." — The  Chinese 
Missionary. — Factory  Hands  on  Holiday. — Funeral  of  Ah  Sam. — A 
Chinese  Faction-fight. — An  Equestrian  Outfit. — The  Poundmaster's  Van. 
General  Stampede,  its  Cause  and  its  Course. — The  Pine-apple  Plant.- — 
The  Passers-by. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TAMALPAIS. 

Where  it  is  Situated. — Some  Speculation  as  to  the  Signification  of  the  name 
and  its  Possible  Origin. — Our  Start  for  the  Mountains. — The  Trip  to  San 
Rafael  and  Adventures  by  the  Way. — Ascending  the  Mountain. — First 
Blood. — The  View  of  the  Bay  and  City  of  San  Francisco. — Mount  Diablo 
puts  in  an  Appearance. — At  the  Summit. — A  Bear-faced  Fraud. — Fine 
Study  of  a  Fog-Bank. — A  Faithless  Guide. — Wandering  in  the  Mist. — 
Out  of  the  Woods. — An  Afternoon's  Sport. — A  Painful  Subject. — Adlos, 
Tamalpais. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

i 

NAPA  VALLEY  AND  MT.   ST.   HELENA. 

From  San  Francisco  to  Vallejo. — What  we  saw  while  crossing  the  Bay  of  San 
Pablo. — The  Valley  of  Napa. — A  Moonlight  Evening  in  the  Mountains. — 
Calistoga  by  Moonlight  and  Sunlight. — The  Baths. — Hot  Chicken  Soup 
Spring. — The  Petrified  Forest  of  Calistoga. — The  Great  Ranch  and  Vine- 
yards.— Ascent  of  Mount  St.  Helena. — What  we  saw  from  the  Summit. — 
Reminiscences  of  the  Flood. — Stoiy  of  the  Judge  and  the  Stranger. — 
Presently,  sir!  Presently! — Good  Joke  on  the  Robbers. — What  happened 
to  me  in  Arizona. — A  Good  Story,  but  too  appreciative  audience. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WAITING  UNDER  THE  MADRONO. 

Dreaming  of  the  Tropics  Again. — The  Honey  Bee. — In  California. — A  Good 
Joke  on  the  Bear. — On  the  Red  Desert. — In  the  Valley  of  Shadow. — Fair 
Alfaretto. — Burning  of  the  Mezquites. — The  Curse  of  the  White  Man.— A 
Wild  Night's  Ride  in  the  Sierra. 

CHAPTER  X. 

AROUND  THE   MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 

The  Fountain  of  Youth. — Hunting  for  Trouble. — Mike  Durfee's  Snake. — The 
Dogs  of  '49. — A  Tragedy  in  the  Redwoods. — When  shall  we  three  meet 
again?— Story  of  the  Champion  Mule  of  El  Dorado. — How  a  Green 
Down-Easter  struck  it  rich. — Result  of  Misplaced  Confidence. — Sensational 
Reports  Depreciated. — Out-door  amusements  in  Arizona. — An  Album  in 
Camp. — The  Mountains  by  "Moonlight. — Parting  under  the  Madrono.— 
Adios! 


CONTEXTS. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  CHINESE  FEAST  OF  THE  DEAD. 

Weird  and  Ghastly  Scene  in  a  Chinese  Temple  at  Midnight. — The  Story  of 
Concatenation  Bill. — The  True  History  of  the  Great  Indian  Fight  on  the 
Gila. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

A  CRUISE  ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 

Night  Scenes  in  San  Francisco. — Low  Life. — Scene  in  a  Recently  Suppressed 
Gambling  House. — Visit  to  the  Chinese  Quarter. — How  John  Chinaman 
loses  his  Money. — The  Thieves  and  Rounders  of  San  Francisco. — How 
they  Live  and  where  they  Lodge. — The  Dance-Cellars. — Opium  Dens  and 
Thieves'  Ordinaries  of  the  Barbary  Coast. — How  the  San  Francisco  Police 
treat  old  offenders,  etc.,  etc. 


CHAPTER  XIII.  "" 

FROM  THE  ORIENT  DIRECT. 

Arrival  of  a  China  Steamer  at  San  Francisco. — Her  Passengers  and  Cargo. — 
A  Horseback  Trip  to  Mount  Diablo. — Ascending  the  Mountain. — The 
Magnificent  View  from  the  Summit.  ' 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

EARLY  TIMES. 

The  Days  of  '49  and  '52. — How  they  administered  the  Law  in  Tuolumne 
County,  and  Justice  in  Sierra. — Old  Put  and  Judge  Hollowbarn. —  Pike's 
"  Sasherarer. " — Peart  Times  on  Rabbit  Creek. — A  Game  that  was 
Spoiled. — An  Appeal  that  wouldn't  hold,  and  Prediction  tKaTAvouldrfrdo- 
to  bet  upon. — Stories  of  Wagers. — Insulted  Dignity  Avenged. — Base  In- 
gratitude.— Dead  or  Alive  ? — Drowned  or  Not  ? — A  Glass-eye  Bet. 


CALIFORNIA. 


CHAPTER      I, 

MY   FIRST    PASEAR. 

The  Sierra  Morena  and  the  Redwood  Forest  of  San  Mateo  and  Santa  Cruz. 
—The  Sportsman's  Paradise. — Looking  back  at  the  Golden  City. — Yes- 
terday and  To-day. — Along  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco.— The  Valley  of 
San  Andreas. —  Harry  Linden's  Speculation  in  Oats. — Good  Resolu- 
tions and  what  came  of  them. — A  Dream  of  Tropic  Life. — An  Even- 
ing on  the  Mountains. — A  Scene  of  Wonderful  Beauty. — The  Avalanche 
from  the  Pacific. — Descending  the  Mountain  by  Moonlight. — The  End 
of  my  Paseaf. 

\ 

Stretch  UN  g  away  southward  from  the  Golden 
Gate,  at  the  northern  point  of  the  peninsula  of  San 
Francisco,  through  San  Mateo,  Santa  Cruz,  Mon- 
terey, San  Luis  Obispo,  Santa  Barbara,  Los  An- 
geles, and  San  Diego  Counties,  in  Alta  California, 
and  thence  on  down  through  the  entire  peninsula 
of  Lower  California  to  Cape  St.  Lucas,  on  the 
border  of  the  tropics,  is  an  almost  unbroken  range 
of  mountains,  known  at  different  points  by  different 
names,  and  presenting  the  wildest  variety  of  scenery 
to  be  found  in  any  mountain  range  in  North  America. 

(ii) 


j  2  MY  FIRST  PASEAK. 

Just  back  of  the  Mission  Dolores,  on  the  southern 
boundary  of  the  city  of  San  Francisco,  they  rise 
from  low  hills  into  minor  mountains,  and  are  known 
as  the  Bernal  Heights,  and  Mission  Mountains. 
Farther  southward  they  increase  in  height,  and 
become  clothed  in  forest.  Twenty  miles  south  of 
San  Francisco  they  form  a  majestic  sierra,  and 
thence,  for  some  distance,  are  designated  as  the 
Sierra  Morena.  Still  farther  south  they  are  known 
as  the  Coast  Range  of  Santa  Cruz,  and  farther  yet 
as  the  Gabilan  Mountains.  Along  this  range,  in  San 
Mateo  and  Santa  Cruz  Counties,  is  one  of  the  largest, 
if  not  the  largest,  of  the  redwood  forests  of  California. 
This  forest-belt  is  from  ten  to  twenty  miles  in  width 
from  east  to  west,  and  from  thirty  to  forty  miles  in 
length  from  north  to  south,  and  contains  timber 
enough  to  build  twenty  San  Franciscos.  The  red- 
woods nowhere  come  down  to  the  Pacific  coast,  and 
the  traveler  on  the  San  Francisco  and  San  Jose 
Railroad  catches  so  few  glimpses  of  them  that  he 
would  never  dream  of  the  existence  of  such  a  forest ; 
while  from  the  decks  of  passing  steamers  one  sees 
only  small  patches  of  them  in  the  canons,  miles  back 
in  the  interior.  The  giant  redwood — to  which  family 
the  big  tre'es  of  Tuolumne,  Calaveras,  and  Mariposa 
Counties  belong — flourishes  best  at  a  hiorh  elevation 
and  in  a  warm,  moist  atmosphere.  This  great  forest, 
like  that  of  Mendocino,  crowns  the  mountains  with 
tropical  luxuriance,  and  is  watered  by  the  mists 
which,  rising  for  a  considerable  part  of  the  year 
from  the  bosom  of  the  Pacific,  are  driven  inland  by 
the  trade-winds  and   condensed  on   the   mountain 


THE  REDWOOD  FOREST. 


n 


slopes,  keeping  the  rank  vegetation  which  clothes 
them  almost  perpetually  dripping.  The  redwoods 
themselves  rise  to  a  height  of  one  to  three  hundred 
feet  or  more,  and  attain  immense  size.  Beneath 
their  shade  springs  up  an  almost  impenetrable  under- 
growth of  flowering  shrubs  and  trees — California 
iilac,  tea-oak,  pine,  ceonotus,  laurel,  or  the  fragrant 
bay,  buckeye,  manzanita,  poison-oak,  the  giant  Cali- 
fornia honeysuckle,  which,  half  bush,  half  vine,  rises 
to  a  height  of  ten  to  twenty  feet,  and  from  its  thou- 
sands of  trumpet-shaped  flowers,  tinted  like  the  wild 
crab-apple  blossoms,  loads  the  atmosphere  with  a 
delicious  perfume ;  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  ma- 
drono, pride  of  the  forest,  and  fairest  of  all  the  trees 
of  earth.  These  woods  are  for  the  most  part  in  a 
native  state.  Here  and  there  the  axe  and  saw-mill 
have  made  sad  havoc,  but  in  the  more  mountainous 
and  least  accessible  localities  the  forest  stretches 
unbroken  for  miles  and  miles,  and  silence  reigns 
supreme.  Horse  trails  are  few,  and  the  dense  un- 
dergrowth and  the  ruggedness  of  the  country  make 
traveling  almost  impossible.  Here  the  grizzly  bear 
hides  in  security,  and  from  his  mountain  fastnesses 
sallies  forth  at  intervals  to  forage  on  the  flocks  and 
herds,  orchards  and  gardens,  that  dot  the  lowlands. 
Here  also  the  California  lion ,  wolf,  fox,  mink,  raccoon, 
wild-cat,  lynx,  deer,  eagle,  and  great  vulture  abound, 
within  hearinor  of  the  whistle  of  the  locomotive  which 
sweeps  through  the  valley  of  Santa  Clara,  and  almost 
within  reach  of  the  echoes  of  the  guns  of  Alcatraz, 
and  the  bells  of  the  Golden  City.  It  is  still,  to  the  great 
majority  of  the  residents  even  of  San  Francisco,  a 


14 


MY  FIRST  PASEAR. 


terra  incognita,  and  for  years  to  come  will  be  a  verit- 
able hunter's  paradise.  Quail,  doves,  pigeons,  rab- 
bits, squirrels,  hares,  and  other  game,  are  found 
everywhere,  and  the  pure  mountain  streams  swarm 
with  the  beautiful  spotted  trout  of  California. 

Parties  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  from  San  Fran- 
cisco, San  Mateo,  Santa  Clara,  San  Jose,  Santa  Cruz, 
and  Pescadero,  skilled  in  woodcraft  and  wise  in  the 
ways  of  adepts  with  the  gun  and  rod,  make  excur- 
sions into  this  tangled  wilderness,  camp  out,  hunt, 
fish,  pic-nic,  and  enjoy  themselves  for  weeks  at  a 
time  annually;  but  to  the  general  tourist  and  the 
great  world  at  large  the  country  is  as  little  known 
as  the  savage  and  inhospitable  wilderness  of  central 
and  northern  Australia. 

Between  this  forest  and  mountain  country,  and 
the  shore  of  the  Pacific,  there  is  a  narrow  but  pro- 
ductive farming  and  grazing  country,  but  seldom 
visited  by  travelers,  as  it  lies  off  the  main  lines  of 
communication,  though  quite  readily  accessible  from 
San  Francisco.  This  too  has  its  attractions  for  the 
tourist  who  is  not  sight-seeing  by  the  guide-book, 
and  much  that  is  novel,  curious,  and  enjoyable  may 
always  be  found  there. 

The  Spanish  language  has  many  words  and  terms 
having  no  equivalent  in  the  English  tongue,  which 
are  so  identified  with  the  geography  and  every-day 
life  of  California  that  they  have  become  engrafted 
upon  our  local  vernacular,  and  must  forever  form  a 
part  of  it.  Among  the  most  expressive  of  these  is 
the  pasedr.  Literally  it  means  to  walk,  or  to  take  out 
upon   a  walk,  but   conventionally  it   is  a  journey 


A   SEPTEMBER  RIDE. 


15 


devoid  of  business  object,  a  quiet  pleasure  jaunt,  a 
trip  for  rest,  relaxation  from  care  and  toil,  for  recre- 
ation. When  the  lazy  clays  of  summer  come,  you 
ask  for  your  San  Francisco  friend  the  doctor,  the 
lawyer,  clergyman,  or  merchant,  and  the  chances 
are  that  you  will  be  told  "  he  has  gone  on  a  pasedr' 
to  the  Yosemite,  to  Lake  Tahoe,  to  the  springs,  or 
to  the  mountains  where  the  trout-streams  abound. 

The  country  of  which  I  have  been  speaking  is  just 
the  country  for  an  enjoyable  pasedr,  and  many  times, 
when  incessant  toil  in  a  close,  dark  office,  or  the  too 
bracine  winds  of  San  Francisco  had  worn  me  down, 
and  made  rest,  recreation,  and  a  change  of  air  im- 
perative, I  have  shouldered  my  gun,  mounted  my 
horse,  and  galloped  away  to  these  mountains,  there  to 
find  refuge  from  care,  anxiety,  and  exhausting  labor, 
purer  air,  lighter  spirits,  a  better  appetite,  and,  in 
the  end,  perfect  health  again. 

It  was  a  bright  September  afternoon  when  I 
started  on  my  last  pasedr  out  toward  the  Sierra 
Morena,  mounted  on  brave  old  Don  Benito,  a  vet- 
eran campaigner  in  Algiers  and  Mexico,  who  had 
borne  me  many  a  weary  mile  over  the  hot  sands  of 
the  desert,  up  and  down  the  red  mountains,  and 
through  the  Apache-haunted  wilds  of  Arizona.  My 
son  and  namesake, — I  would  say  heir,  were  it  not 
that  it  would  seem  like  A.  Ward's  last  joke,  in  view 
of  the  present  extent  of  my  landed  estates  and  the 
condition  of  my  exchequer, — as  bold  a  rider  ?nd 
skillful  fisherman  as  any  boy  of  twelve  may  be. 
accompanied  me,  mounted  on  his  plucky  and  spirited 
little  California  mustang,  his  pet  and  companion  for 


iC  MY  FIRST  PASEAR. 

years.  Out  through  the  dusty  streets  of  the  city 
proper,  and  through  the  Mission  Dolores,  we  rode 
at  a  gallop,  and  only  paused,  at  length,  to  allow  our 
fretting  horses  a  moment's  rest,  and  look  back  upon 
the  city  we  were  so  gladly  leaving  behind  us,  from 
the  heights  beyond  Islais  Creek.  It  is,  after  all,  a 
goodly  city,  and  a  goodly  sight  to  look  upon  from 
these  hills ;  and  as  we  look  down  upon  it,  and  upon 
the  ancient  mission  which  stood  there,  as  it  stands 
to-day,  when  the  site  of  San  Francisco  was  a  track- 
less, uninhabited  waste,  the  beautiful  lines  of  one  of 
California's  most  gifted  writers,  Ira  D.  Colbraith, 
come  vividly  to  our  memory : 

"  Little  the  goodly  Fathers, 

Building  their  Mission  rude, 
By  the  lone  untraversed  waters, 
In  the  western  solitude, 

"  Dreamed  of  the  wonderful  city, 
That  looks  on  the  stately  bay 
Where  the  bannered  ships  of  the  nations 
Float  in  their  pride  to-day; 

"  Dreamed  of  the  beautiful  city, 
Proud  on  her  tawny  height, 
And  strange  as  a  flower  upspringing 
To  bloom  in  a  single  night. 

"  For  lo  !  but  a  moment  lifting 
The  veil  of  the  years  away, 
We  look  on  a  well-known  picture. 
That  seems  but  as  yesterday. 

"  The  mist  rolls  in  at  the  Gateway 
Where  never  a  fortress  stands, 
O'er  the  blossoms  of  Sancelito, 
And  Yerba  Buena's  sands; 


THE  ANCIENT  MISSION.  x  y 

"  Swathing  the  shores  where  only 
The  sea-birds  come  and  pass, 
And  drifts  with  the  drifting  waters, 
By  desolate  Alcatraz ; 

"  We  hear,  when  night  droops  downward, 
And  the  bay  throbs  under  the  stars, 
The  ocean  voices  blending 
With  ripple  of  soft  guitars ; 

"  With  chiming  bells  of  the  Mission, 
With  passionate  minors  sung, 
Or  a  quaint  Castilian  ballad 
Trilled  in  the  Spanish  tongue. 

"  Fair  from  thy  hills,  O  city, 
Look  on  the  beautiful  bay! 
Prouder  far  is  the  vision 
Greeting  our  eyes  to-day ; 

1  Better  the  thronged  waters, 
And  the  busy  streets  astir, 
Purple  and  silken  raiment, 
Balsam  and  balm  and  myrrh ; 

"  Gems  of  the  farther  Indies, 

Gold  of  thine  own  rich  mine, 
And  the  pride  and  boast  of  the  peoples, 
O  beautiful  queen,  are  thine  ! 

"  Praise  to  the  goodly  Fathers, 

With  banners  of  faith  unfurled  ! 
Praise  to  the  sturdy  heroes 
Who  have  won  thee  to  the  world  ! " 

Descending  from  these  heights,  the  road — the 
San  Bruno  turnpike — winds  in  and  out  for  miles 
along  the  bluff  shores  of  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco, 
and  the  views,  changing  at  every  turn,  are  wonder- 
fully diversified  and  beautiful.  At  one  point  we  saw 
a  land-locked  basin,  in  which  a  dozen  Italian  fisher- 
men's boats  lay  rocking  idly,  and  at  another  we 
2 


j  g  MY  FIRST  PASEAR. 

paused  to  watch  a  party  of  "  dagos,"  who  were 
wading  in  the  bay  up  to  their  necks,  hauling  a  seine, 
while  their  lelucca-rigged  craft  rode  at  anchor  as  it 
might  have  done  in  the  Levant  or  the  Grecian  Ar- 
chipelago. Cut  out  that  section  of  the  blue  bay, 
with  the  felucca  and  its  crew  of  red-capped  fisher- 
men, put  it  into  a  frame,  and  you  have  a  matchless 
"  Scene  in  the  Levant,"  by  one  of  the  very  oldest 
of  the  masters.  Great  white  pelicans  winged  their 
way  in  silence  over  the  waters,  and  flocks  of  gulls, 
shaugs,  and  crooked-billed  curlew,  rose  as  we  gal- 
loped along.  Long  streamers  of  snowy  vapor  hung 
out  like  flags  of  truce  from  the  summits  of  the 
mountains  on  the  west,  and  looking  back  to  the 
north  we  saw  the  mist  driving  in  through  the  Golden 
Gate  and  scudding  across  the  bay. 

Leaving  the  shore  of  the  bay  at  last,  some  ten  or 
twelve  miles  from  San  Francisco,  we  galloped  over 
an  open  plain,  and  at  San  Bruno  crossed  the  South- 
ern Pacific  Railroad  track,  and  turned  by  a  by-road 
into  a  long,  winding  canon  leading  up  to  the  summit 
of  a  range  of  hills  to  the  westward,  between  which 
and  the  higher  and  forest-crowned  Sierra  Morena, 
still  farther  on  towards  the  sea,  lies,  hidden  wholly 
from  the  outer  world,  the  lovely  valley  of  San  An- 
dreas. The  plain  upon  the  western  shore  of  the 
bay,  and  all  the  Contra  Costa  and  Alameda  valley 
and  hill  country  on  the  eastern  side,  was  brown: 
and  dry,  and  sear  as  it  ever  is  in  the  interior  of 
California  in  summer  and  autumn  ;  and  the  valley 
of  San  Andreas,  embowered  in  shade,  and  the  cool, 
green,  mist-nourished  forests  on  the  mountains  be- 


JOHN  CHINAMAN  iq 

yond  it,  grew  more  beautiful  by  the  contrast  as  we 
approached  them. 

The  Spring  Valley  Water  Company,  which  derives 
its  water  supply  for  San  Francisco  from  the  head  of 
the  Pillarcitos  Creek,  in  the  redwoods,  some  forty 
miles  south  of  the  city,  and  has  a  beautiful  lake  for 
a  reservoir  in  the  mountains,  was  here  building 
another  reservoir,  equal  in  size  to  anything  on  the 
continent.  A  dam,  seventy  feet  high,  with  founda- 
tions sixty  feet  deep,  has  been  thrown  across  the 
valley ;  and  the  waters  of  the  San  Andreas,  thus 
thrown  back,  form  a  lake  two  miles  and  a  half  long, 
and  containing  one  thousand  million  gallons.  This 
is  held  as  a  reserve  supply  for  dry  seasons.  John 
Chinaman  did  the  work,  with  white  men  as  superin- 
tendents, and,  as  is  his  custom,  did  it  well.  He  was 
then  at  work,  in  the  same  quiet,  methodical  way, 
making-  bricks  for  the  barriers  of  the  flood-gates. 
John  is  a  law  unto  himself,  and  can  do  a  wonderful 
amount  of  minding  his  own  business  within  a  given 
time.  Pay  him  regularly  what  you  agree  to,  give 
him  his  New  Year's  holidays,  and  a  chance  to  supply 
himself  with  chicken  and  duck  for  his  Sunday  dinner 
and  rice  for  his  regular  daily  rations  at  fair  rates, 
and  he  is  contentment  itself.  The  question  of 
woman  suffrage  does  not  worry  him,  eight-hour 
laws  he  holds  in  contempt,  and  no  lazy,  jaw-working 
demagogues  can  fool  him  with  their  plausible  soph- 
istries into  agrarian  combinations,  strikes,  and  riots. 
He  is  a  philosopher  in  his  way,  and  not  without  claims 
to  respect  and  better  treatment  than  he  usually  gets 
from  his  Caucasian  "  betters." 


20  MY  FIRST  PASEAR. 

Winding  down  the  hill-side  and  around  the  great 
reservoir,  we  enter  the  valley  of  San  Andreas  just 
as  the  sun  is  sinking  in  the  roseate  bank  of  fleecy 
mist  which,  like  a  great  snow-drift,  is  piled  up  against 
the  mountains  on  the  west  to  their  very  summits. 
The  bare  plain,  and  brown,  verdureless  hills  weary 
the  eye  no  longer,  but  instead  fresh  green  chaparral 
and  tall,  full-foliaged  trees  stretch  out  on  every  side, 
and  we  ride  down  a  road  embowered  with  shrubbery, 
and  dark  with  the  cool  shadows  of  evening.  Coveys 
of  tufted  quail  rise  and  whirr  away  as  we  gallop  on, 
and  rabbits  creep  into  the  bushes  at  every  turn  in 
the  road.  At  the  entrance  of  a  canon  stands  a  cot- 
tage, shaded  by  broad,  spreading  oaks  and  fragrant 
bay-trees  ;  and  by  the  door,  book  in  hand,  sits  a  fair 
young  daughter  of  California,  with  great  brown  eyes, 
as  beautiful  as  those  of  a  sea-lion, — I  can  think  of 
no  more  complimentary  simile.  She  tells  us  that 
game  is  swarming,  and  that  there  will  be  rare  sport 
for  the  hunters  after  the  15th  of  September,  when 
the  prohibition  on  shooting  is  removed.  A  huge 
grizzly  took  possession  of  the  pasture  on  the  hill- 
side opposite  the  house  some  weeks  previously,  and 
stayed  there  undisturbed  for  a  fortnight,  only  leaving 
when  the  wild  clover,  upon  which  he  came  to  luxuri- 
ate, failed.  Deer  are  seen  almost  daily,  and  a  few 
days  before  a  lynx,  or  wild-cat,  or  California  lion, — 
the  women  could  not  tell  which, — came  down  to  the 
cottage  in  broad  daylight,  caught  a  fowl,  and  sat 
down  by  the  door  to  eat  it.  A  lady  threw  a  shoe  at 
the  creature,  which  thereupon  trotted  off,  with  a 
growl,  carrying  his  stolen  dinner  with  him. 


HARR  Y  LINDEN  S  LOT.  2l 

How  vivid  is  my  recollection  of  my  first  pascdr  in 
the  valley  of  San  Andreas  !  I  had  started  out  from 
San  Francisco  at  the  urgent  solicitation  of  my  old 
friend  Col.  Harry  Linden,  who  then  lived  here  upon 
an  extensive  mountain  rancho,  a  part  of  the  Domingc 
Feliz  Rancho,  determined  to  leave  work  and  the 
wearing  cares  of  business  behind  me,  and  have  one 
good,  quiet  pasedr  with  him  in  his  bachelor  haunts 
in  the  hills.  I  had  brought  along  my  gun  and  any 
amount  of  ammunition,  with  a  good  supply  of  fishing- 
tackle  as  well,  and  was  determined  to  he  up  with 
the  dawn  and  make  it  very  lively  indeed  for  every- 
thing which  wore  feathers,  fur,  or  scales,  during  my 
stay.  In  the  early  evening  I  arrived  at  the  house, 
and  was  warmly  welcomed  by  Harry,  and  introduced 
to  the  ladies  of  the  family ;  it  was  not  exactly  a 
bachelor's  lot  after  all,  and  Harry,  as  I  found,  was  a 
boarder  and  a  petted  member  of  a  pleasant  and  re- 
fined social  circle,  not  the  solitary  tenant  of  a  com- 
fortless lumberman's  or  ranchero's  cabin,  as  I  had 
fancied  him.  We  left  the  ladies  sitting  under  the 
trees,  and  went  in  to  supper.  Harry  has  always 
been  fancying  himself  a  farmer,  and  many  is  the 
good  joke  that  has  been  perpetrated  upon  him  in  the 
agricultural  line.  At  that  time  he  had  been  doing 
a  big  thing  in  that  way.  An  enthusiastic  farmer 
of  Alameda  County  had  imported,  for  seed,  from 
Scotland,  at  great  expense,  a  quantity  of  black 
Scotch  oats,  such  as  are  used  for  making  oatmeal 
in  the  "land  o'  cakes."  He  was  very  choice  with 
them ;  would  only  part  with  them  at  one  dollar  per 
pound,  and,  in  his  anxiety  to    introduce   them   as 


2  2  MY  FIRS  T  PA  SEAR. 

widely  and  generally  as  possible  among  the  farmers 
of  California,  had  made  a  positive  rule  to  sell  only 
one  pound  to  any  one  individual.  Harry,  not  a 
whit  less  enthusiastic  than  himself,  and,  if  possible, 
a  little  more  public-spirited,  determined  to  have  a 
field  of  those  oats  which  would  astonish  the  natives. 
So  he  went  around  among  his  friends,  and  got  them 
to  go  one  at  a  time  to  his  importing  friend,  and  pur- 
chase a  pound  of  the  precious  oats,  each  on  the 
pretext  of  desiring  to  plant  them  in  their  gardens 
to  raise  seed  for  hypothetical  ranches  in  the  country 
for  next  season.  His  virtue  and  perseverance  were 
fully  rewarded.  He  succeeded  in  getting  together, 
in  this  manner,  fifty-seven  pounds  of  the  coveted 
oats,  which  he  proceeded  to  sow  in  a  nicely  pre- 
pared field  of  goodly  extent.  He  had  sown  many 
a  field  with  oats  of  the  wildest  variety  in  his  younger 
days,  but  never  had  he  regarded  the  expected  crop 
with  such  blissful  anticipations  as  in  this  case.  He 
watched  and  waited.  Days  grew  into  weeks,  and 
weeks  into  months,  and  still  no  green  sprout  showed 
itself  above  the  surface  of  that  promising  field. 
Painful  doubts  began  to  oppress  his  bosom.  He 
dug  down  and  found  some  of  the  oats ;  they  were 
just  in  the  condition  in  which  they  were  first  put 
into  the  earth.  Sore  afflicted  in  mind,  he  waited  yet 
a  little  longer,  tried  them  again,  and  with  the  same 
result.  Then  he  hurried  away  to  his  friend,  the 
public-spirited  importer,  and  sought  an  explanation 
of  the  mystery.  It  was  easily  given.  He,  the 
importer,  had  written  to  a  friend  in  Edinburgh  for 
"  One  thousand  pounds  of  black  oats  such  as  are 


GOOD  RESOLUTIONS.  33 

Dest  liked  in  Scotland  for  making  oatmeal,  clean  and 
thoroughly  dry  before  packing  for  shipment."  The 
order  had  been  filled  conscientiously.  The  best  ones 
for  making  oatmeal  are  of  course  kiln-dried,  and  to 
insure  their  coming  in  good  condition  the  shippers 
had  taken  the  precaution  to  have  them  dried  in  an 
extra  hot  kiln.  They  would  have  made  oatmeal,  a 
single  pound  of  which  would  have  kept  a  Scotchman 
on  the  scratch  for  a  year ;  but  for  agricultural  pur- 
poses he  might  as  well  have  sown  so  many  hailstones 
or  shoe  pegs.  Had  he  written  that  he  wanted  them 
for  seed,  the  matter-of-fact  Scotch  shippers  would 
have  sent  him  seed  oats  ;  but  he  wrote  for  best  oat- 
meal-producing oats,  and  they  sent  them.  The  joke 
had  just  got  out,  and  we  discussed  it  at  supper  with 
xiearty  relish,  and  one  joke  and  story  brought  on 
another  until  the  waning  hours  admonished  us  it 
was  time  to  retire  for  the  night. 

No  one  ever  had  a  larger  stock  in  trade,  in  the 
shape  of  good  resolutions,  than  myself.  I  allow 
nobody  to  beat  me  in  that  line,  whatever  may  be 
my  short-comings  in  other  matters.  After  a  glori- 
ous night's  sleep  I  awoke  with  the  warm  sunlight 
pouring  in  at  my  window,  and  the  sweet  song  of 
wild  birds  falling  on  my  ears.  As  I  have  said,  I  had 
come  into  this  inexpressibly  lovely  and  secluded 
valley  to  hunt  wild  game,  and  fish  for  mountain  trout, 
and  I  arose  with  the  firmest  resolution  to  swallow  a 
hasty  and  early  breakfast,  saddle  up,  and  be  off  into 
the  hills  without  the  loss  of  a  moment's  time.  The 
matter  01  breaKfasi.  was  soon  disposed  of,  and  I 
went  out  into  the  open  air  and  the  sunshine.     Great 


24 


MY  filial    rAz^AR. 


spreading  buckeyes  and  California  laurels,  the  fra- 
grant bay,  stood  in  groups  all  around  the  house ; 
and  between  two  gnarled  tree  trunks,  in  the  fragrant 
shade,  I  saw  a  hammock  swinging  temptingly. 
There  was  a  world  of  romance  and  dreamy  remem- 
Drances  of  other  days  and  tropic  climes  in  the  sight, 
and — shall  I  say  it  ? — the  cherished  daughter  of  the 
house,  she  of  the  soft  rippling  hair,  and  great  brown 
eyes,  sat  near  the  hammock,  in  the  shade,  with  an 
open  book  before  her.  To  see  how  it  would  seem 
to  swing  in  a  hammock  in  the  shade  once  more,  I 
stretched  myself  therein,  and,  to  complete  the  repro- 
duction of  my  dream  of  the  tropics,  drew  out  a  bunch 
of  fragrant  cigarritas, — genuine  Havanas,  from  the 
factory  of  "  the  Widow  of  Garcia," — rolled  one, 
lighted  it,  and  engaged  in  conversation  with  my  fair 
young  friend.  I  found  her  highly  educated,  refined, 
accomplished,  a  glorious  conversationalist,  enter- 
taining, and  companionable.  The  smoke  of  that 
cigarrita,  and  another,  and  another,  and  another, 
went  curling  up  in  blue  transparent  wreaths,  and 
floated  lazily  away.  The  sunlight  filtered  through 
the  leaves  in  rippling  streams  of  golden  glory,  and 
the  soft  autumn  breeze  fanned  my  cheek  and  played 
caressingly  with  the  locks  upon  my  forehead,  grey 
and  harsh  no  more,  but  curly  and  raven-hued  again, 
"  in  my  mind's  eye,  Horatio."  The  view  down  the 
valley,  between  hills  on  one  side  clad  in  deepest 
green,  on  the  other  in  brightest  gold,  to  the  great 
Canada  del  Raymundo  and  the  high,  forest-crowned 
mountains  of  Santa  Clara,  enveloped  in,  and  glorified 
bv.  the  soft  blue  haze  of  the  September  morning, 


A   DREAM   OF   THE  TROPICS. 


EVENING   ON  THE  MOORLAXflS 


25 


was  poetry  itself;  and,  beggar  that  I  am,  I  swung  in 
that  hammock,  smoked  the  fragrant  cigarritas,  and 
talked  of  books  and  poetry  and  travel  in  foreign 
lands,  with  that  fair  daughter  of  the  Golden  Land, 
until  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

I  ought  to  say  that  I  am  ashamed  of  myself;  but 
I  am  not.  I  glory  in  my  shame !  I  would  do  it 
again,  and  think  none  the  less  of  myself  and  my 
fellow-man — and  woman — for  so  doing.  And  so 
would  you,  my  reader,  or  you  are  no  friend  of  mine, 
— a  blockhead,  an  idiot,  a  confirmed  misanthrope,  or 
something  worse.  If  you  do  not  sympathize  with 
me  in  this  feeling,  drop  the  book  right  here,  and 
never  take  it  up  again ;  you  and  I  will  not  do  to 
travel  together. 

All  earthly  things  end  sometime  and  somewhere, 
and  my  siesta  followed  the  rule.  At  four  o'clock  I 
saddled  up  old  Don  Benito,  who  had  been  neighing 
and  manifesting  his  impatience  to  be  off  for  hours, 
and,  with  Linden,  rode  up  a  long,  winding  pathway 
in  the  canon,  through  the  thick,  overhanging  forest 
of  laurel,  madrono,  live-oak,  tea-oak  ceonotus,  buck- 
eye, and  wild  cherry,  to  the  summit  of  the  high  hill 
range,  above  the  valley  upon  the  west.  Doves,  and 
pretty,  tufted  California  quail  rose  up  and  whirred 
away  into  the  thickets  as  we  rode  along,  and  rabbits 
and  hares  ran  before  us  in  the  pathway,  affording  us 
abundant  opportunity  for  using  our  guns. 

On  the  summit  of  the  range  was  a  fine  wheat-field 
of  two  or  three  hundred  acres,  and  there  the  birds 
fairly  swarmed.  We  used  our  guns  until  the  sport 
became  such  no  longer,  and  then  threw  ourselves 


26 


MY  FIRST  P4SEAR. 


down  upon  the  grass  under  a  tree  to  admire  the 
quiet  beauty  and  subdued  grandeur  of  the  scene, 
and   talk   of   old   times    and    plans   for    the   future. 
Eastward,  miles  away   beyond   the  valley  of   San 
Andreas,  the  lower  hill  range  and  the  wide  marsh- 
lands, but  seemingly  at  our^very  feet,  lay  the  blue 
Bay  of  San  Francisco,  flecked  here  and  there  with 
the  white  sails  of  ships.     Beyond  this  lay  a  bank  of 
semi-transparent  vapor,  which  had  drifted  in  through 
the  Golden   Gate  and  over  from  the   city  of   San 
Francisco,  and  grown   coralline   and    roseate-hued 
with  the  warm  rays  of  the  setting  sun.     This  vapor 
half  concealed  the  shores  of  Alameda  and  Contra 
Costa,  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  bay,  and  made  the 
high  hills  of  those  counties  appear  to  come  down 
bold  and  precipitous  to  the  very  water's  edge,  the 
intervening  valley,  miles  in  width,  having  wholly  dis- 
appeared.    High  above  these   hills,  magnified   and 
lifted  up  as  it  were,  and  made  to  look  far  higher  than 
he  really  is,  loomed,  like  a  thunder-cloud  against  the 
deep  blue  sky,  the  dark  head  of  Mount  Diablo. 

Looking  westward,  at  our  feet  was  a  deep  canon, 
beyond  which  was  another  range  of  hills,  or  more 
properly  mountains,  the  real  coast  range,  shutting 
out  the  view  of  the  sea.  These  mountains  are 
covered  with  a  dark,  redwood  forest  at  the  summit, 
kept  dripping  wet  by  the  mist  from  the  Pacinc. 
which  rolls  up  over  them  in  an  unceasing  torrent, 
white  as  an  Alpine  avalanche,  all  day  long.  An 
effect  is  here  produced  of  which  I  despair  of  being 
able  to  give  anything  like  an  adequate  description. 
The  white  vapor  came  rushing  over  to  the  eastward 


THE  AVALANCHE  FROM  THE  PACIFIC.  27 

towards  us,  with  a  current  like  that  of  a  thousand 
Niagaras  rolled  into  one,  and  the  beholder  expects 
every  moment  to  see  it  come  down  the  slope,  cross 
over  the  intervening  canon,  and  overwhelm  him  ; 
but  stay  as  long  as  he  may,  for  hours,  days,  months, 
or  years,  it  comes  never  a  rod  nearer  to  him.  As 
it  meets  the  hot  air  ascending  from  the  dry  valleys, 
it  is  dissipated  at  a  certain  point  and  disappears. 
You  behold  a  mighty  avalanche,  white  and  solid  in 
appearance  as  Alpine  snows,  ever  advancing  to 
overwhelm  you,  but  never  reaching  you.  Two 
great  eagles  with  snow-white  heads  circled  around 
and  around  over  the  dark  canon  below  us,  in  which 
they  had  their  nest.  There  was  not  a  sound  save 
that  of  our  own  voices  to  break  the  stillness  of  the 
evening,  and,  save  what  I  have  described,  not  a  sign 
of  life  to  mar  the  solitude  of  the  scene.  The  higii, 
rugged  mountains  of  Santa  Clara  and  Santa  Cruz, 
robed  in  deep-green  chemisal  and  crowned  with 
feathery  redwoods,  bounded  the  view  on  the  south, 
and  made  a  fitting  frame  for  the  glorious  picture 
before  us.  What  wonder  that  we  gazed  noon  the 
enchanting  scene,  fairly  reveling  in  the  feast  of 
beauty  and  sublimity  nature  had  spread  before  us 
with  such  a  lavish  hand,  until  the  gathering  shadows 
of  night  admonished  us  that  it  was  time  to  remount 
our  impatient  steeds  and  descend  once  more  to  the 
valley ! 

The  full,  round  moon  was  in  the  heavens,  throwing 
her  mellow  light  o'er  all  that  fairy  landscape,  as  we 
descended  from  the  mountain  height,  and  in  fancy 
we  were  once  more  wandering  in  the  mountains  of 


2g  MY  FIRST  PASEAR. 

Sonora,  or  in  the  savage  deserts  of  Arizona,  masters 
only  of  the  good  steeds  beneath  us,  and  trusting 
only  to  the  mercy  of  God  and  the  good  weapons  in 
our  hands  and  at  our  saddle-bows  for  the  safety  of 
our  lives. 

After  supper  we  sat  beneath  the  trees  around  the 
hospitable  casa  of  our  friend,  and  rehearsed  the  ad- 
ventures and  scenes  of  old  times  with  a  relish  the 
strano-er  to  wild  frontier  life  can  never  know. 
Harry  Linden  is  my  senior  by  some  years,  and  in 
the  ordinary  course  of  nature  and  civilized  .life 
should  have  lost  his  early  penchant  for  Robinson 
Crusoe-like  adventure ;  but  such  is  the  fascination 
of  border  life  that  I  believe  that  at  this  very  hour 
he  would  exchange  all  the  comforts  of  die  most 
elegant  home  in  San  Francisco  or  New  York,  and 
the  best  spring  mattress  ever  made,  for  a  seat  by 
the  camp-fire  in  Apache  land,  and  a  blanket  and  the 
warm  sand  of  the  desert  for  a  bed, — and  I  am  just 
boy  enough  to  do  the  same  at  a  moment's  notice, 
did  opportunity  offer  and  duty  permit.  Sitting  here 
under  the  trees  in  the  valley  of  San  Andreas,  sur- 
rounded by  appreciative  friends  and  the  enjoyments 
of  refined  society,  he  tells  us  of  a  long-planned  ex- 
pedition to  the  least  known  of  the  island  groups  of 
the  Pacific,  how  one  of  these  days  he  means  to  have 
his  vessel  rigged,  manned,  and  provisioned  for  the 
trip ;  and  laugh  as  we  may  at  the  idea  of  his  going 
on  such  a  voyage  at  his  age,  nothing  will  shake  his 
earnestness  in  the  project,  or  make  him  admit  for 
an  instant  a  doubt  of  his  ultimately  carrying  it  out 
successfully.     This  charm  of  danger  needlessly  in- 


THE  END    OF  MY  PASEAR.  2Q 

curred,  toil  self-imposed,  and  reckless  adventure  in 
unknown  lands,  once  felt,  becomes  a  part  of  one's 
v^ry  being,  and  never  fully  loses  its  influence  while 
life  remains. 

Next  day  my  fair  friend  showed  me  where  to  fish 
for  the  largest  trout,  helped  me.  with  her  own  white 
hands  to  prepare  the  tackle,  and  took  part  with  us 
in  the  sport.  A  few  more  hours  of  swinging  in  the 
hammock,  the  last  cigarrito  was  smoked,  the  last 
story  told,  and  reluctantly  I  bade  my  kind  friends 
of  the  valley  of  San  Andreas  good-by,  beneath  the 
laurel-  and  the  buckeye-trees,  and,  mounting  old 
Don  Benito,  galloped  away  toward  the  Golden 
City. 

We  are  always  happier  for  having  been  happy 
once ;  and  I  have  lived  longer,  and  I  hope  better, 
and  enjoyed  life  more,  for  the  recollection  of  that 
first  pasedr  to  the  valley  of  San  Andreas.  And 
here,  as  we  meet  again  to-night,  the  pleasant  mem- 
ory comes  back  to  us  and  we  talk  it  over  once  again 
with  keenest  satisfaction.  In  taking  leave  of  our 
fair  young  friend  I  tell  her  that  I  start  for  Mexico 
in  a  few  days  for  a  long  pasedr  under  tropic  skies ; 
and,  as  we  ride  away  in  the  gloaming  of  the  evening, 
she  bows  gravely,  and,  in  the  soft  Castilian  tongue, 
as  is  the  custom  of  the  people  in  Spanish  lands, 
bids  me  "Adios,  Amigo  /"  adding,  with  a  trace  of 
something  more  than  mere  conventional  politeness 
in  ner  voice,  "And  the  peace  of  God  be  with  you!" 


CHAPTER    II. 

IN    THE    MISTS    OF   THE    PACIFIC. 

The  Crystal  Springs. — The  Music  of  the  Night. — The  California  Night-Singei 
and  the  Legend  of  the  Easter  Eggs. — The  Canada  del  Reymundo. — Over 
the  Sierra  Morena. — Down  the  Coast. — Pescadero  and  its  Surroundings. 
— Pigeon  Point  and  the  Wrecks. — A  Shipwrecked  Ghost. — The  Coast 
Whalers  and  their  Superstitions. — An  Embarcadero  on  the  San  Mateo 
Coast. — Ride  to  Point  Anno  Nuevo. 

Riding  on  southward  down  the  valley  of  San 
Andreas  in  the  cool,  quiet  evening,  we  came  to  the 
Crystal  Springs,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the 
summer  resorts  in  the  vicinity  of  San  Francisco. 
There  is  a  fine,  large  hotel,  with  a  broad  piazza  all 
around  it,  just  the  place  to  sit  and  smoke  a  good 
cigar,  have  a  quiet  talk  with  your  friends,  and  ad- 
mire the  beauty  of  the  surrounding  scenery,  brought 
out  in  all  its  loveliness  by  the  full  autumn  moon 
which  was  pouring  down  its  full  flood  of  mellow 
light  upon  the  scene.  The  San  Mateo  Creek  runs 
through  a  wild,  tangled  thicket  in  front  of  the  house  ; 
parterres  of  flowers  of  ever}7  hue,  in  full  bloom,  rill 
the  intervening  grounds  ;  and  on  the  west  the  steep 
mountain  sweeps  around  in  a  grand  curve,  forming  a 
magnificent  amphitheatre  beside  which  the  Coliseum 
is  but  the  toy  playhouse  of  a  child.     Away  back  in 

'3°  J 


THE  MUSIC  OF  THE   NIGHT. 


31 


the  air,  cutting  sharply  against  the  horizon,  stand 
great  pines,  from  whose  broad-spreading  branches 
float  long  steamers  of  green-gray  moss,  giving  an 
air  of  great  are  and  venerableness  to  the  forest. 
Densely  wooded  are  all  the  intervening  hill-sides 
with  the  fragrant  laurel,  tea- oak  and  many  flowering 
shrubs    interwoven    with    the    glorious    madrono, 
whose  crown   of  bright-green    leaves   contrasts  so 
pleasingly   with  its  bark  of  brilliant  scarlet — the 
madrono  ought  to    be   the   favorite  tree  with  the 
Fenian  Brotherhood,  who  are  so  fond  of  seeing  the 
green  above  the  red.     Sitting  on  the  broad  piazza, 
in  the  cool  evening,  we  hear  the  whistle  of  the  lo- 
comotive at  San  Mateo,  only  four  miles  away  over 
the  hills  to  the  eastward.     As  the  last  faint  echoes 
die  away  in  the  canons,  a  coyote  wolf,  which  has 
been  prowling  stealthily  in  the  vicinity  of  the  hotel, 
sets  up  a  sharp,  shrill  yell  in  answer.    Other  wolves, 
far  and  near — there  may  be  half  a  dozen  of  them, 
but  it  seems  as  if  there  were  a  thousand — take  up 
the  cry,  and  in  an  instant  the  woods  and  the  night 
are  filled  with  music,  net  exactly  such  as  Longfellow 
sines  of,  but  which  for  want  of  better  will  serve  to 
induce  "the  cares  which  infest  the  day"  to    "fold 
their  tents  like  the  Arab,  and  as  silently  steal  away." 
Half  a  dozen  huge  Newfoundland  dogs,  good- 
natured,  lazy  fellows  enough  at  the  best,  but  anxious 
to  convince  the  generous  public  that  they  are  of 
some  importance  in  the  world,  and  make  a  show  of 
earninor  their  bread  and  butter  now  that  their  master 
is  at  home,  roused  from  their  slumbers  by  the  howl- 


„„  IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 

ing  of  the  coyote,  with  loud  yells  dash  off  into  the 
woods,  as  if  determined  to  exterminate  the  whole 
vile  race  right  there  and  then,  taking  good  care, 
however,  to  yelp  their  very  loudest  at  every  jump, 
that  the  gentlemen  in  gray  may  have  abundant 
notice  of  'their  coming,  and  get  out  of  the  way  in 
time  to  avoid  unpleasant  results  to  either  party.  I 
have  known  valiant  duelists  start  out  from  San 
Francisco  to  shed  each  other's  blood,  but  manage  to 
produce  much  the  same  result  by  simply  making  so 
much  noise  as  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  police, 
and  insure  the  arrest  of  one  or  both  parties  before 
reachino-  the   held  of  honor.     Instinct  and  reason 

o 

are  much  the  same  in  their  practical  workings  after  all. 
When  the  wolves  have  decamped,  and  the  dogs, 
with  the  air  of  conquering  heroes,  have  returned 
from  the  bloodless  campaign,  and  turned  in  for  the 
night,  the  cigars  are  smoked  out  and  the  stories 
told,  our  company  breaks  up,  and  we  retire  for  the 
night.  Through  the  open  window  comes  at  inter- 
vals a  sweeper  music  than  that  to  which  we  have 
just  been  listening:  the  low,  sweet  song  of  a  little 
bird  of  the  finch  species,  which  is  found,  though  not 
in  great  abundance,  in  all  the  coast  range  country 
of  California.  This  little  night-singer  stays  con- 
cealed in  the  thickets  all  day,  uttering  no  note  to 
give  notice  of  his  whereabouts ;  but  when  the  cool 
shadows  of  the  evening  fall  it  comes  forth  into  the 
gardens,  and  through  all  the  long  hours  of  the  other- 
wise silent  night,  pours  out  its  sweet  and  plaintive 
soncr  as  if  in  mourning  for  the  loved  and  lost.     In 


THE   CALIFORNIA   NIGHT-SINGER.  33 

size  and  form  it  is  not   unlike  the  common  wild 
California   canary,  to  which  it  is  doubtless   allied; 
but,  curiously  enough  for  a  night-singer,  its  plumage 
is  far  more  brilliant  and  beautiful, — green,  orange, 
and  blue,  with  a  narrow  bar  of  red  on  the  wings. 
I  have  never  been  able  to  see'it  save  in  captivity, 
but  many  a  night  have  I  lain  awake  in  my  home  on 
Russian  Hill,  in  San  Francisco,  and  listened  to  its 
plaintive  little  song  as  it  flitted  among  the  shrub- 
bery in    the   garden,  wondering  what   manner  of 
bird  it  might  be.     One  day  a  Mexican  residing  in 
the  western  part  of  the  city,  who  gains  a  livelihood 
by  trapping  canaries  and  linnets,  offered  me  a  pair  of 
these  little  beauties  for  two  dollars,  apologizing  for 
the  high  price  by  saying  that  they  were  very  rare  and 
caught  with  difficulty.     Struck  by  their  beauty  and 
delicate  brilliancy  of  plumage,  I  asked  him  if  they 
ever  sang.    u  Oh,  yes,  seiior;  but  only  in  the  night. 
You  must  remember  the  story  of  the  bird  which 
sang  all  night  before  the  tomb  in  which  lay  the  body 
of  the  Saviour  of  the  world" — touchine  his  hat  re- 
spectfully — "after  the   crucifixion?      Well,   seiior, 
these  birds  are  of  the  same ! " 

Then  the  story  of  the  Easter- night  singer  of  far- 
off  Palestine,  as  I  had  heard  it  told  in  other  lands, 
came  back  me ;  and  going  home  I  read  with  fresh 
interest  the  beautiful  lines  by  Fitzjames  O'Brien: 

"  You  have  heard,  my  boy,  of  the  One  who  died, 
Crowned  with  keen  thorns  and  crucified ; 
And  how  Joseph  the  wealthy — whom  God  reward — 
Cared  for  the  corpse  of  the  martyred  Lord, 
And  piously  tombed  it  within  the  rock, 
And  closed  the  gate  with  a  mighty  block. 


34 


IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 

11  Now,  close  by  the  tomb,  a  fair  tree  grew, 
With  pendulous  leaves  and  blossoms  of  blue; 
And  deep  in  the  green  tree's  shadowy  breast 
A  beautiful  singing-bird  on  her  nest, 
Which  was  bordered  with  mosses  like  malachite 
And  held  four  eggs  of  an  ivory  white. 

"  Now,  when  the  bird  from  her  dim  recess 
Beheld  the  Lord  in  his  burial  dress, 
And  looked  on  the  heavenly  face  so  pale, 
And  the  dear  feet  pierced  with  the  cruel  nail, 
Her  heart  now  broke  with  a  sudden  pang* 
And  out  of  the  depth  of  her  sorrow  she  sang. 

"  All  night  long,  till  the  moon  was  up, 
She  sat  and  sang  in  her  moss-wreathed  cup 
A  song  of  sorrow,  as  wild  and  shrill 
As  the  homeless  wind  when  it  ioams  the  hill  ; 
So  full  of^tears,  so  loud  and  long, 
That  the  grief  of  the  world  seemed  turned  to  song. 

"  But  soon  there  came,  through  the  weeping  night, 
A  glimmering  angel  clothed  in  white  ; 
And  he  rolled  the  stone  from  the  tomb  away, 
Where  the  Lord  of  the  earth  and  the  heavens  lay  ; 
And  Christ  arose  in  the  cavern's  gloom, 
And  in  living  lustre  came  from  the  tomb. 

"  Now  the  bird  that  sat  in  the  heart  of"  the  tree 
Beheld  the  celestial  mystery, 
And  its  heart  was  filled  with  a  sweet  delight, 
And  it  poured  a  song  on  the  throbbing  night  ; 
Notes  climbing  notes,  still  higher,  higher, 
They  shoot  to  heaven  like  spears  of  fire. 

"  When  the  glittering,  white-robed  angel  heard 
The  sorrowing  song  of  that  grieving  bird, 
And  heard  the  following  chant  of  mirth, 
That  hailed  Christ,  risen  from  the  earth, 
He  said,  '  Sweet  bird,  be  forever  blest ; 
Thyself,  thy  eggs,  and  thy  moss-wreathed  nest.' 

"  And  ever,  my  child,  since  that  blessed  night, 
When  death  bowed  down  to  the  Lord  of  light, 


OVER  THE  SIERRA  MO  REN  A  MOUNTAINS.  „  c 

00 

The  eggs  of  that  sweet  bird  change  their  hue, 
And  burn  with  red,  and  gold,  and  blue  ; 
Reminding  mankind,  in  their  simple  way, 
Of  the  holy  marvel  of  Easter-day." 

I  know  that  in  a  little  time  the  march  of  reason 
will  sweep  this  old  tradition,  as  it  has  already  swept 
away  others  which  were  once  regarded  as  essentials 
of  the  Christian  faith ;  nevertheless  I  envied  the 
simple,  uneducated  bird-catcher  his  childlike,  un- 
questioning belief,  and  the  song  of  the  sweet  night- 
singer  of  California  will  ever  henceforth  fall  upon 
my  ear  more  gratefully  for  its  pleasant  association 
with  that  story  of  holy  marvel,  which,  although 
some  of  us  may  doubt,  we  must  surely  all  alike 
admire. 

The  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens,  next  day,  when 
I  said  good-by  to  Albert  at  Crystal  Springs,  and 
rode  away  into  the  Sierra  Morena  Mountains.  It 
was  a  California  autumn  morning, — and,  in  saying 
that,  I  have  left  nothing  unsaid  in  the  way  of  descrip- 
tion. Turning  southwestward,  the  road,  one  of  the 
finest  I  have  ever  ridden  over,  winds  round  and 
round,  in  and  out,  along  the  steep  sides  of  a  deep, 
rocky  cafion,  for  miles,  ascending  by  regular  and 
easy  grades  the  dividing  ridge  between  the  Bay  of 
San  Francisco  and  the  Pacific  Ocean.  When  nearly 
at  the  summit  I  paused  to  rest  my  panting  horse  and 
look  back  upon  the  scene  below.  And  such  a 
scene  !  It  was  a  variation  of  that  described  in  the 
story  of  my  pasedr,  but,  if  possible,  even  more  en- 
trancingly  beautiful.  Eastward,  the  Bay  of  San 
Francisco,  cairn,  unruffled,  and  blue,  glittered  in  the 


.,(3  IN  THE  MISTS   OF  THE    PACIFIC. 

sun.  The  ocean  mists  rolling  in  through  the  Golden 
Gate  half  hid  the  towns  which  skirt  the  bay.  The 
hills  of  Alameda,  high  and  etherealized,  rested  like 
great  straw-colored  and  purple  clouds  against  the 
horizon;  while  Mount  Diablo,  monarch  of  the  in- 
land country,  reared  his  dark  head  into  the  blue  sky, 
above  the  mists  and  the  lower  mountains,  like  some 
great  rocky  island,  seen  from  the  shores  of  an  un- 
known sea.  Southward,  between  the  hills  of  San 
Mateo  and  the  Sierra  Morena,  stretching  away  for 
miles  toward  the  redwood-covered  heights  of  Santa 
Clara,  lay  the  ever-beautiful  Canada  del  Reymundo. 
Live-oak  groves  are  scattered  through  it,  and  near 
its  centre  rests  a  quiet  little  lake,  with  an  island  of 
green  tules  in  the  middle.  All  around  the  sides  of  the 
valley,  among  the  groves  in  the  little  canons,  nestle 
quiet  farm-houses,  and  in  the  centre,  upon  an  elevated 
mesa,  stands  the  last  relic  of  the  old  semi-feudal  Span- 
ish-American times.  This  is  an  adobe  house  of  one 
story,  with  broad  veranda,  formed  by  the  wide  roof 
being  carried  out  all  around.  No  garden,  no  grain- 
fields,  not  a  single  fruit-tree  flourishes  near  it.  The 
ranchero  who  built  it  and  dwelt  here  among-  his  herds, 
and  paid  tribute  to  the  Holy  Mother  Church  and  the 
Most  Catholic  monarch,  Don  Carlos  "of  Spain,  and 
India  King,"  some  eighty  years  ago,  thought  the 
country  capable  of  no  higher  improvement,  and 
dreamed  not  of  the  paradise  it  was  to  become  when  he 
and  his  should  give  place  to  the  stranger  who  dwelt 
beyond  the  great  Sierra  Nevada  somewhere.  He 
built  no  roads,  planted  no  trees,  and  left  behind  only 


OVFR    r&F  SIERRA  MORENA   MOUNTAINS.       yj 

aus  low-roofed  jaical,  and  die  musical  Spanish  name 
which  he  gave  to  the  valley. 

On  again.  One  of  those  curious  blue-and-brown 
birds,  with  peaked  cap  and  tail  as  disproportionately 
long  as  that  of  a  peacock,  called  here  a  "  Road 
Runner,"  and  in  Mexico  "El  Correro  del  Camino" — 
the  courier  of  the  road, — which  never  flies  if  it  can 
avoid  it,  but  runs  with  a  speed  which  distances  the 
fleetest  horse,  darted  along  in  the  road  ahead  of  us. 
I  galloped  after  it,  vainly  trying  to  get  within  shoot- 
;ng  distance,  until,  tired  of  the  sport,  it  jumped  over 
the  side  of  the  mountain  and  disappeared  in  the 
bushes  of  the  canon  below.  The  road  is  cut  most 
of  the  way  out  of  the  solid  rock,  and  you  look  down 
from  time  to  time  almost  perpendicularly  into  canons 
hundreds  and  hundreds  of  feet.  It  is  a  succession, 
on  a  modified  scale,  of  Cape  Horn  and  the  scenery 
on  the  South  Fork  of  the  American  River  in  the 
Sierra  Nevada,  on  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad 
route,  and  at  the  same  time  on  a  scale  quite  large 
enough  to  try  to  the  utmost  the  nerves  of  timid 
travelers. 

The  flying  mists,  which  had  been  scudding  in 
broken  clouds  over  the  sierra,  lifted  and  rolled 
away  as  I  crossed  the  summit  and  began  to  descend 
towards  Spanish  Town.  .  The  Pillar  Jtos  Creek 
murmured  hundreds  of  feet  below,  \\\  the  narrow 
canon,  near  the  mouth  of  which,  half  hidden  in 
shade-trees,  is  the  hamlet  of  Spanish  Town.  Be- 
yond rolls  the  deep-blue  waters  of  the  broad  Pacific, 
and  Half-Moon  Bay  lies  a  few  miles  to  the  north- 
ward.    I  pass  a  wayside  house  where  the  yard  is 


-Q  IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 

3° 

full  of  goats   and   everything   speaks  of   Spanish- 
Americanism. 

A  woman  with  lustrous  black  hair  and  eyes,  and 
oval,  olive- hued  face,  comes  out  with  her  black  shawl 
or  rebosa,  folded  Andalusian  fashion  around  her  head 
and  shoulders.  The  Moors  left  those  eyes,  and  that 
oval  face  and  tawny- olive  skin,  in  Spain ;  but  the 
little  girl  who  follows  her  has  a  fairer  complexion, 
a  sharper-cut  face,  and  light-brown  hair.  Thus, 
little  by  little,  we  are  conquering  Spanish- America. 
At  a  little  roadside  grocery  a  whole  family  of  Mex- 
ican or  native  Californians  are  in  attendance.  I 
called  for  a  real's  (ten  cents)  worth  of  apples,  and 
they  weighed  me  out  four  pounds ;  one  holding  the 
scales,  another  putting  in  the  apples  in  a  pail  which 
a  third  held,  while  the  rest  looked  on.  It  took  the 
whole  family  to  sell  just  ten  apples;  but  such  is  "el 
costumbre  del  pais,  senor" — the  custom  of  the  coun- 
try, sir ;  and  who  is  to  commit  the  sacrilege  of  inno- 
vation? 

Two  miles  above  Spanish  Town,  at  the  toll-gate, 
is  a  small,  neat  farm,  owned  by  an  intelligent  Amer- 
ican, past  the  meridian  of  life.  As  he  came  out  to 
take  the  toll,  I  en^ao-ed  him  in  conversation.  He 
has  one  hundred  and  sixty  acres,  nearly  one  hun- 
dred of  which  are  under  cultivation.  In  the  valley 
he  raises  beans,  onions,  fruit,  etc.,  and  on  the  hill- 
tops he  has  his  early  potato-fields,  from  which  he 
sends  to  market  the  finest  potatoes  in  December, 
January  and  February,  after  the  lowland  crops  have 
become  "old"  and  less  salable.  He  has  three  acres 
of  strawberries  in  full  bearing.     These  he  irrigates, 


SPANISH  TOWN  AND  NEIGHBORHOOD.  -Q 

and  thus  secures  line  crops  all  the  year  round.  He 
sometimes  gets  as  high  as  a  dollar  per  pound  for 
strawberries  at  Christmas  and  New  Year's,  and  he 
estimates  that  the  crop  yields  him,  on  an  average, 
twenty  cents  per  pound  in  coin  the  year  round. 
He  has  no  family,  and  wants  to  sell  out  and  go  to 
Santa  Barbara,  where  he  has  relatives.  He  thinks 
his  farm,  with  improvements,  is  worth  forty  dollars 
per  acre.  The  potato  and  onion-fields  he  rents  to 
a  party  of  Portuguese.  There  is  a  family  of  Mexi- 
cans upon  the  upper  end  of  his  ranche,  but  most  of 
his  neighbors  are  Germans,,  though  the  population 
of  the  town  is  about  equally  divided  between  native 
Californians,  Americans  and  Europeans.  His  sole 
companion  is  a  Chinaman,  who  carries  on  the  straw- 
berry culture  and  does  the  housework,  and  is,  as  he 
told  me,  worth  any  other  two  men,  though  he  gets 
but  two  thirds  the'  wages.  He  could  not  say  much 
for  the  society  of  the  neighborhood,  nor  can  I. 

Spanish  Town  contains  little  to  attract  a  stranger. 
Turning  southward  here,  the  road  runs  through  a 
rich,  sloping  plain,  between  the  ocean  and  the  moun- 
tains, and  for  eight  on  ten  miles  passes  through  one 
continued  grain-field.  The  country  was  parceled 
out  at  first  in  great  ranches  of  many  thousand  acres, 
each  held  under  Spanish  or  Mexican  grants.  These 
have  been  sold  to  Americans,  and  cut  up  to  some 
extent  into  smaller  portions,  but  the  farms  are  still 
immense,  and  far  too  large  for  the  most  profitable 
cultivation.  Barley  and  oats,  principally  the  latter, 
are  cultivated.  The  crop  was  cut  months  ago,  but 
owing  to  the  lack  of  "  steamers,"  as  the  inhabitants 


40  IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 

here  term  the  steam  thrashing  machine,  most  of  it 
still  lies  in  the  fields  unfathered.  The  straw  be- 
comes  blackened  by  the  fog,  but  the  grain  does  not 
seem  to  suffer  much.  Thrashers  were  at  work  all 
along  the  road,  and  great  piles  of  grain  in  sacks 
waiting  to  be  hauled  to  Half-Moon  Bay  and  shipped 
to  San  Francisco,  were  seen  in  many  fields.  The 
harvesting  is  done  mainly  by  extra  hands  hired  by 
the  day.  I  met  dozens  of  them  tramping  along  the 
dusty  roads,  with  their  blankets  on  their  backs. 
They  do  not  stay  long  in  a  place,  but  get  from  two 
to  three  dollars  in  coin  and  their  board  for  such 
time  as  they  work,  and  then  move  on.  Some  of  the 
old  California  Mission  Indians  still  reside  here,  and 
work  in  the  fields  ;  and  Chinamen  are  making  their 
way  on  the  farms  and  in  the  dairy.  They  get  from 
fifteen  dollars  per  month  to  nine  dollars  and  fifty 
cents  per  week,  and  board  themselves.  A  few  get 
as  much  as  two  dollars  per  day  in  the  harvest  fields, 
and  are  highly  spoken  of  by'  the  farmers,  many  of 
whom,  however,  are  afraid  to  give  them  employ- 
ment, lest  their  fields  of  grain  and  stacks  should  be 
fired  in  revenge  by  the  European  laborers,  who  are 
savagely  opposed  to  them.  The  farms  in  the  hills 
are  smaller  and  more  closely  cultivated.  Onions, 
beets  and  mustard  are  largely  grown. 

The  great  beets  of  California  are  among  her 
vegetable  wonders,  and  have  often  sorely  taxed  the 
credulity  of  Eastern  people.  Californian  though  I 
am,  I  must  own  up  that  there  is  something  just  a 
trifle  like  an  imposition  on  outsiders  in  this  matter 
of  the  production  of  these  mammoth  beets.     This 


DOWN  THE   COAST. 


41 


is  the  way  the  thing  is  done.  The  largest  beet  in 
this  soil  may  attain  a  weight  of  fifty  or  sixty  pounds 
the  first  year  ;  I  do  not  think  any  grow  larger. 
One  is  selected,  carefully  dug  up,  so  as  not  to  in- 
jure the  root,  in  the  fall,  and  housed  during  the 
rainy  season.  Then  it  is  replanted  in  the  spring, 
and  instead  of  going  to  seed,  as  it  would  if  left  in 
the  ground  all  winter,  continues  growing,  and  in  the 
fall  it  is  again  dug  up  and  housed,  having  probably 
attained  a  weight  of  eighty  or  ninety  pounds.  Next 
year  it  grows  perhaps  to  one  hundred  or  one  hun- 
dred and  ten  pounds — the  largest  on  record  weighed 
one  hundred  and  eighteen  pounds,  and  was  raised 
in  Santa  Cruz  county — but  now  it  is  "played  out," 
in  California  parlance,  and  will  not  grow  another 
year.  How  they  manage  to  raise  lettuce  seven  feet 
in  circumference,  and  cucumbers  five  feet  two  inches 
long-  and  eight  inches  in  circumference,  such  as  are 
often  on  exhibition  in  the  California  Market,  San 
Francisco,  I  do  not  know — but  they  do  it. 


The  soil  here  is  wonderfully  rich,  and  often,  as  I 
have  seen  myself,  from  ten  to  twenty  feet  in  depth, 
of  a  black  loam,  like  that  of  the  western  prairies. 

The  road  winds  along  the  bold  shore  of  the 
Pacific  for  miles — now  passing  over  steep  divides, 
and  again  descending  to  the  bottom  of  precipitous 
canons.  At  times  the  view  of  the  ocean,  for  a  long 
distance  up  and  down  the  coast,  is  unobstructed, 
and  from  one  height  I  counted  not  less  than  fifteen 
whales  spouting  at  intervals  as  they  sported  in  the 
calm  blue  waters,  or  sought  their  accustomed  food 


a  2  IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 

along  the  edges  of  the  kelp-fields,  which  in  many 
places  extend  far  out  to  sea.  Whales  have  their 
parasites  and  minor  annoyances  as  land-lubbers 
have,  and  sometimes  they  become  so  annoyed  by 
the  barnacles  which  fix  themselves  upon  them  that 
they  run  into  shallow  water  and  endeavor  to  rid 
themselves  of  their  tormentors  by  rubbing  their 
huge  carcasses  upon  the  sandy  bottom.  It  not  un- 
frequently  happens  that  in  so  doing  they  venture  too 
far  in  shore,  and,  being  caught  by  the  surf  or  the 
receding  tide,  are  stranded  and  finally  left  to  die 
high  and  dry  upon  the  land.  Every  year  whales 
are  thus  stranded  on  the  beach  in  the  vicinity  of 
San  Francisco,  and  their  bones  may  be  seen  at  fre- 
quent intervals  scattered  all  along  the  shore  from 
Point  Lobos  southward  for  many  miles. 

Meeting  by  the  way  an  old  Mission  Indian,  who, 
as  he  told  me,  was  born  and  had  always  lived  near 
Pescadero,  and  could  hardly  speak  a  word  of  En- 
glish, though  well  posted  in  the  Spanish  tongue,  I 
asked  him  how  far  it  was  to  Pescadero.  "Possibly 
a  mile,  or  a  league,  or  two  leagues,  senor."  "Well, 
how  far  is  it  to  Point  Ano  Nuevo?"  "Oh,  senor, 
it  must  be  a  very  long  way !  I  think  it  is  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  other  world!"  I  have  never 
yet  been  able  to  get  the  remotest  approximation  to 
a  correct  statement  of  distance  from  a  California 
Indian,  those  who  were  reared  and  educated  by  the 
old  padres  at  the  Spanish  missions  being  as  utterly 
ignorant  on  the  subject  as  the  diggers  of  the 
mountains,  who  never  knew  or  cared  to  know  any- 
thing beyond  the  condition  of  the  grasshoppers  on 


PESCADERO  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS.  43 

which  they  fatten  in  the  summer  season,  and  the 
acorn  and  pifion  crops  on  which  they  subsist  during 
the  winter. 

After  a  ride  of  thirty  miles  from  Crystal  Springs, 
done  at  a  gallop,  up  hill  and  down,  nearly  all  the 
way,  and  in  just  four  hours  and  ten  minutes,  I 
reached  the  little  town  of  Pescadero,  in  a  small 
but  fertile  valley  some  two  miles  from  the  ocean,  a 
popular  summer  resort  for  San  Franciscans,  and  a 
favorite  head-quarters  of  the  hunters  and  fishermen 
of  the  coast.  The  long  ride  had  given  me  a  savage 
appetite,  and  as  the  fog  had  drifted  in  from  the 
ocean,  and  shut  down  cold  and  damp  on  the  land- 
scape, a  broiled  trout  dinner  and  a  warm  wood-fire 
never  seemed  more  welcome  than  they  did  that 
evening  at  Pescadero. 

The  population  of  Pescadero  does  not  exceed 
three  hundred  souls,  who  depend  on  the  lumber- 
mills  in  the  great  redwood  forest,  the  dairies,  the 
grain  and  potato  ranches,  and  summer  visitors 
from  San  Francisco,  for  life  and  trade.  The  heavy 
fogs,  and  cold,  raw  ocean  winds  are  unfavorable  to 
grapes  and  other  fruits,  but  potatoes  thrive  wonder- 
fully, and  are  extensively  cultivated  on  the  rich 
bottom  lands  around  the  town.  Half  the  "  ground 
fruit"  consumed  in  San  Francisco  comes  from  this 
section  of  the  coast.  An  old  ranchero  told  me  that 
for  ten  years  the  average  price  of  potatoes  had 
been  one  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents  per  hundred 
pounds,  and  the  usual  yield  from  one  hundred  to 
one  hundred  and  twenty- five  bags,  at  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  pounds  each,  per  acre.    The  digging 


4.4  IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE   PACIFIC 

is  done  by  native  Californians,  or  "greasers."  Land, 
in  the  great  ranches  back  on  the  road  to  Spanish 
Town,  is  worth  from  forty  to  fifty  dollars  per  acre, 
but  the  potato  lands,  near  this  town,  are  worth  one 
hundred  dollars,  or  even  more.  A  few  old  California 
Indians  work  in  the  fields  quite  faithfully  after  their 
fashion,  but  none  of  the  old  hands  equal  the  Chinaman 
"  year  out  and  year  in."  Much  lumber  is  hauled  from 
the  mountains,  and,  with  potatoes,  grain  and  vegeta- 
bles, is  shipped  for  San  Francisco  from  the  embarca- 
dero  at  Pigeon  Point,  six  miles  south  of  Pescadercu 

My  stay  in  Pescadero  being  limited,  mine  host  of 
the  Swanton  House  volunteered,  Californian-like,  to 
take  me  down  the  coast  to  see  the  sights.  A  six- 
mile  ride  over  an  open,  rolling  country,  devoted 
chiefly  to  grazing,  brought  us  to  Pigeon  Point,  a 
famous  place  for  wrecks,  and  a  depot  of  the  coast 
whalers.  It  gets  its  name  from  the  wreck  of  the 
Carrier  Pigeon,  a  noble  clipper-ship  which  drifted  in 
here  one  night  in  the  winter  of  1853-4,  and  was 
shattered  to  pieces  upon  the  terrible  reefs  running 
out  from  the  foot  of  the  bold  promontory.  Here, 
on  the  high  headland,  are  clustered  some  dozen 
cottages,  inhabited  by  the  coast  whalers  and  their 
families.  These  men  are  all  "Gees" — Portuguese 
— from  the  Azores  or  Western  Islands.  They  are 
a  stout,  hardy-looking  race,  grossly  ignorant,  dirty, 
and  superstitious.  They  work  hard,  and  are  doing 
well  in  business.  As  we  rode  up,  two  long,  sharp, 
single-masted  boats,  with  odd-looking  sails,  shot  out 
to  sea.     On  the  Point,  by  the  side  of  flag-staffs,  on 


THE   WHALES. 


45 


which  signals  were  to  be  hoisted  to  guide  the  boats 
in  their  pursuit,  crouched  two  of  the  party  with  their 
sea  glasses,  intently  watching  the  boats  and  sweep- 
ing the  horizon. 

Are  there  any  whales  about  ?  Oh,  yes,  plenty ! 
and  the  speaker  handed  us  his  glass.  About  three 
miles  out  was  a  large  school  of  the  black,  hump 
back  species  sporting  in  the  nearly  smooth  sea, 
rising  to  the  surface  to  blow,  showing  their  black 
backs,  and  going  down  again  among  the  sardines 
on  which  they  were  feeding.  The  boats  run  out 
with  sails  set,  and  do  not  take  in  their  canvas  until 
a  whale  is  harpooned.  If  a  new  school  is  discovered, 
the  boats  are  signaled  by  the  party  on  the  Point. 
Looking  through  the  glass  we  saw  the  boats  run- 
ning for  different  whales.  All  was  bustle  and  ex- 
citement on  board,  the  harpooners  standing  in  the 
bows  ready  to  strike,  and  every  man  at  his  post^ 
One  of  the  signal  men  could  speak  a  little  English, 
and  thus  soliloquized  for  our  benefit :  "  E  blow,  e 
blow !  One  close  herd  starboard  boat !  Carraho, 
now  he  run  !  Ze  son  of  seacook,  how  he  run  ;  dam 
a  he !  Believe  myself  he  get  away !"  Then,  car- 
ried away  by  his  feelings,  he  proceeded  to  curse  in 
good  Portuguese,  honestly  and  squarely,  for  fifteen 
minutes,  and  I  felt  my  respect  for  him  rising  almost 
to  the  point  of  admiration. 

Tired  of  watching,  we  at  last  started  off  to  see 
what  else  there  was  of  interest  at  the  station. 
When  we  returned,  near  evening,  the  boats  were 
far  down  on  the  edge  of  the  horizon,  and  had  appa- 
rently fastened   to   a  whale,  while    another    large 


*<5 


IN   THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 


school  was  playing  undisturbed  within  half  a  mile 
of  the  shore.  The  trypots  were  placed  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Point,  and  there  we  found  a  party  of 
men  busy  extracting  the  oil  from  heaps  of  blubber 
ready  cut  up  from  a  huge  humpback  whale ;  flukes 
and  wreck  lay  on  the  beach  below.  They  were 
dripping  and  fairly  saturated  with  the  oil,  and  every- 
thing around  was  in  the  same  condition.  The  stink- 
ing fluid  had  run  down  the  face  of  the  bluff  to  the 
water's  edge,  and  the  whole  place  was  redolent  ol 
the  perfume.  A  row  of  casks  filled  with  oil  testified 
to  the  success  of  the  business.  The  tryers  told  us 
that  they  had  cut  up  twelve  whales  already  that 
season,  and  had  killed  and  lost  ten  more.  The  fall 
season  usually  begins  in  October,  but  that  year  the 
whales  had  come  down  from  the  Arctic  regions  a 
month  or  six  weeks  earlier,  and  business  had  opened 
good.  Last  year  they  caught  only  two  humpbacks, 
the  rest  being  "  California  grays."  This  year,  thus 
far,  the  whales  killed  had  all  been  humpbacks.  A 
good  big  fellow  will  yield  one  hundred  barrels  of 
oil,  but  the  average  is  perhaps  thirty-five.  Whale- 
fishing  is  carried  on  in  this  manner  at  San  Luis 
Obispo,  Monterey,  and  other  points  all  along  the 
^coast  down  to  Cape  St.  Lucas.  On  the  hill  I  noticed 
a  pile  of  the  blubber  scraps  from  which  the  oil  had 
been  boiled,  which  are  used  for  lighting  fires  to 
guide  the  boats  home  on  dark  nights.  Did  it 
ever  by  any  possibility  occur  to  these  guileless 
Gees,  that  a  fire  thus  lighted  at  this  high  point 
on  a  dark  night  might  possibly  be  mistaken  for  a 
ligMhouse  light,  and  thus  a  noble  vessel,  freighted 


BAY  AT  PIGEON  POINT.  *  j 

with  precious  lives,  and  freight  liable  to  get  badly 
scattered  when  cast  ashore  by  the  waves,  be  lured 
to  destruction?  There  have  been  many  wrecks 
along  this  rocky  coast,  and  underwriters  seldom 
secure  much  of  the  cargo. 

There  are  no  real  harbors  between  San  Francisco 
and  San  Diego,  about  four  hundred  miles  south,  and 
very  few  places  where  a  vessel  can  in  the  fairest 
weather  run  alongside  a  wharf  to  load  or  unload. 
At  Pigeon  Point  there  is  a  semicircular  bay,  par- 
tially sheltered  from  the  northern  winds,  but  the 
heavy  swells  rolling  in  from  the  southwest  prevent 
any  wharves  being  erected.  Out  about  two  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  shore  is  a  high  monument-like 
rock,  rising  to  a  level  with  the  steep  rock  bluff  which 
half  incloses  the  bay.  From  the  bluff  to  the  top  of 
this  rock  stretches  a  heavy  wire  cable,  kept  taut  by 
a  capstan.  A  vessel  rounding  the  reef  runs  into 
the  sheltered  cove  under  this  hawser,  and  then  casts 
anchor.  Slings  running  down  on  the  hawser  are 
rigged,  and  her  cargo  lifted  from  her  deck  load  by 
load,  run  up  into  the  air  fifty  to  one  hundred  feet, 
then  hauled  in  shore,  and  landed  upon  the  top  of 
the  bluff.  Lumber,  hay  in  bales  like  cotton,  fruit, 
potatoes,  vegetables,  dairy  products,  etc.,  etc.,  are 
in  like  manner  run  out  and  lowered  at  the  right 
moment  upon  the  vessel's  decks.  If  a  southwester 
comes  on  she  slips  her  anchor  and  runs  out  to  sea 
till  it  is  over.  This  system  is  in  extensive  use  along 
the  coast,  though  in  some  places  lighters  and  tugs 
are  employed  to  load  and  unload. 

This  part  of  the  coast  has  a  terrible  name,  and 


48 


IN"  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC 


may  well  be  dreaded  by  sailors.  Six  miles  south  of 
Pigeon  Point  is  Point  Ano  Nuevo  (New  Year). 
The  shore  between  bends  inward,  and  all  along 
black  reefs  of  rocks  rear  their  ugly  fangs,  like  wild 
beasts  watching  for  their  prey.  A  current  sweeps 
in  from  Point  Ano  Nuevo  toward  Pigeon  Point,  and 
many  a  vessel  has  been  drawn  in  in  the  fog,  to  be 
dashed  on  the  rocks.  Off  Point  Ano  Nuevo  is  a 
desert  island  of  three  or  four  acres  of  sand  and 
rocks,  a  favorite  resort  of  sea-lions  and  sea-birds. 
On  this  island  the  United  States  government  pro- 
posed to  erect  a  lighthouse,  but  the  owners  of  the 
great  Spanish  ranch  of  seventeen  thousand  acres, 
to  whom  it  belongs,  asked  forty  thousand  dollars  for 
a  deed  of  it, — they  bought  the  whole  grant  originally 
for  about  twenty  thousand  dollars,  and  have  real- 
ized twice  that  sum  from  partial  sales ;  and  so  it 
was  decided  to  place  it  on  Pigeon  Point,  where  a 
site  equally  as  good  was  secured  for  five  thousand 
dollars.  Ultimately  the  demand  for  a  site  at  Point 
Ano  Nuevo,  at  something  like  a  reasonable  rate, 
was  conceded,  and  there  will  soon  be  a  lighthouse 
on  both  points. 

The  most  noted  wrecks  hereabouts  have  been  as 
follows  :  i.  The  clipper-ship  Carrier  Pigeon,  of  eleven 
hundred  tons,  from  Boston,  wrecked  at  Pigeon  Point 
in  the  winter  of  1853-4,  the  vessel  and  cargo  being 
a  total  loss,  although  the  crew  escaped.  2.  The  ship 
Sir  John  Franklin,  from  Baltimore,  with  the  cargo 
of  the  Pennell,  condemned  at  Rio  de  Janeiro ;  lost 
at  Point  Ano  Nuevo,  six  years  ago ;  captain,  first 
mate,  and  eleven  of   the   crew  drowned.     3.  The 


THE    WRECKS  AND    THE    WRECKED.  49 

British  iron  bark  Coya,  from  Newcastle,  with  coal 
and  passengers ;  wrecked  between  the  two  points, 
four  years  ago.  No  danger  was  suspected  in  this 
case,  until  in  the  early  part  of  the  night  the  vessel, 
supposed  to  be  forty  miles  off  shore,  was  discovered 
to  be  among  the  breakers.  Before  she  could  be  put 
about  she  struck  the  reef,  rolled  over  into  the  deep 
water  beyond,  and  went  down  in  an  instant,  carry- 
ing with  her  twenty-seven  people,  including  three 
women.  Two  men  and  a  boy,  half  naked,  benumbed 
and  exhausted,  were  cast  upon  the  rocks,  and 
reached  a  ranch,  the  only  survivors  of  the  thirty 
souls  on  board.  4.  The  ship  Hellespont  (British), 
from  Newcastle,  eleven  hundred  tons  of  coal,  lost  near 
Pigeon  Point  one  night  in  the  winter  of  1869-70. 
Seven  men  perished,  but  a  portion  of  the  crew, 
naked,  bleeding,  bruised,  and  more  dead  than  alive, 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  fishermen's  station. 

On  the  sandy  bluff  at  Point  Ano  Nuevo  is  an  in- 
closure  within  which  lie  buried,  side  by  side,  forty  of 
the  victims  of  these  terrible  disasters.  Others  were 
removed  by  their  friends,  and  one,  the  mate  of  the 
Hellespont,  sleeps,  undisturbed  by  the  merry  prattle 
of  the  children  or  the  wild  screams  of  the  sea-gulls, 
beside  one  of  the  whalers'  houses  at  Pigeon  Point. 

"  You  see  that  grave  right  behind  that  house  ?" 
said  my  companion.  "That  is  where  we  buried  the 
mate  of  the  Hellespont.  She  went  ashore  in  the 
night  within  a  mile  of  the  Point,  and,  owing  to  the 
roar  of  tne  breakers,  the  whalemen  knew  nothing 
about  it.  One  of  the  sailors,  bleeding  from  many 
wounds,  more  dead  than  alive,  and  wholly  naked, 


5o 


IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 


every  rag  having  been  torn  from  him  in  his  buffet- 
ing with  the  waves,  managed  to  crawl  up  the  bluff, 
and,  groping  in  the  darkness,  stumbled  upon  the  trail 
leading  to  the  Point.  Just  as  the  day  was  breaking, 
he  had  crept  within  sight  of  the  cottages.  One  of 
the  whalemen  coming  out  met  the  poor  fellow  at  the 
door,  and  raising  the  cry,  'A  ghost!  a  ghost!'  ran 
back  with  such  speed  as  his  trembling  limbs  would 
give  him.  The  supposed  ghost,  seeing  a  chance 
for  life,  and  being  too  cold  to  speak,  staggered  after 
him.  In  his  terror  the  Portuguese  stumbled  and 
fell  headlong  upon  the  floor,  and  the  shipwrecked 
mariner  stumbled  also  and  fell  upon  him.  The 
other  Gees,  hearing  the  outcry,  ran  to  the  spot, 
and  fell  over  the  prostrate  couple,  and  the  horrible 
and  grotesque  were  strangely  mixed.  At  last  the 
ghost  related  his  story,  and  the  frightened  fishermen 
started  down  in  search  of  the  other  survivors,  two 
or  three  of  whom  were  met  crawling  along  the 
road.  The  bodies  of  others  were  lying  on  the 
beach,  or  tossed  to  and  fro  by  the  breakers,  while 
the  fragments  of  the  wreck  strewed  the  shore  for 
miles.  There  is  a  telegraph  station  on  the  Point, 
communicating  with  the  Merchants'  Exchange  in 
San  Francisco  and  with  the  station  at  Pescadero. 
and  the  news  of  the  disaster  was  soon  known  along 
the  coast.  We  placed  the  body  of  the  mate  into  a 
coffin,  and  asked  the  Portuguese  to  help  us  to  bring 
it  to  the  Point  for  burial,  but  the  superstitious  fellows 
would  not  touch  the  corpse  for  love  or  money.  I 
coaxed,  and  pleaded,  and  appealed  to  their  humanity, 
but  all  in  vain.     Then  I  swore  that  I  would  get  even 


A   SHIPWRECKED  GHOST.  rl 

on  them.  We  went  up  there  and  commenced  dig- 
ging a  grave.  When  they  saw  what  we  were  doing, 
they  began  to  comprehend  the  situation,  and  so  far 
conquered  their  prejudices  as  to  offer  to  help  us 
carry  the  corpse  up  the  hill.  '  Not  much,  darlings 
of  my  heart;  I  have  changed  my  mind!'  I  said;  and 
I  had.  I  meant  to  give  them  a  lesson  which  would 
last  them  a  lifetime,  or  make  them  move  their  quar- 
ters. So  three  of  us  lugged  it  to  this  spot,  and 
buried  it  beside  the  cottage,  and  his  ghost  has  an- 
noyed them  every  stormy  night  since,  and  will  pro- 
bably worry  them  as  long  as  they  stay  here." 

Thus  chatting,  we  rode  on  down  the  coast,  and 
when  abreast  of  Point  Alio  Nuevo,  drove  up  to  the 
door  of  the  hospitable  proprietor  of  Steele's  Dairy, 


CHAPTER    Til. 

IN    THE    MISTS    OF   THE    PACIFIC. 

Steele's  Ranch. — The  Model  Dairy  of  California. — Captain  Graham. —  A 
Semi -Tropical  Garden. — Frightful  Contest  with  a  Grizzly. — Bear  and  for- 
Bear. — The  True  King  of  Beasts. — The  Model  of  Conservatism. — How 
the  Hunters  lay  for  Bruin.: — A  Foolhardy  Feat. — An  Adventure  on  the 
San  Joaquin. — A  Bear  on  a  Spree. — Don't  stand  on  Ceremony  with  a  Beai. 
— How  a  California  Bear  entertained  a  Mexican  Bull. — How  Native  Cali- 
fornians  Lasso  the  Bear. — How  a  Yankee  did  it. — The  Bear  ahead. — Peb- 
ble Beach  of  Pescadero. — Cona. — The  oldest  Inhabitant. — Don  Felipe 
Armas. — Don  Salvador  Mosquito. — The  Man  who  was  a  Soldier.-  A  Hun- 
dred Years  ago. — Catching  Salmon  Trout. — Shooting  Sea-Liora  ^W;ld 
Scene  on  the  Sea-Shore. 

Steele's  is  one  of  the  largest  dairy  ranches  on 
the  Pacific  coast.  It  is  owned  and  run  by  the 
brothers  Steele,  formerly  of  Delaware  County,  New 
York.  General  Steele,  who  served  in  the  Union 
army  during  the  war,  and  the  deputy-sheriff  of 
Delaware  County,  who  was  murdered  by  the  "  Anti- 
Renters,"  some  years  ago,  were  brothers  of  the 
proprietors.  There  are  two  fine  two-story  frame 
houses  on  the  ranch,  a  fourth  of  a  mile  apart, 
which,  unlike  the  majority  of  houses  on  this  part  of 
the  coast,  are  elegantly  finished,  surrounded  with 
shade-trees  and  gardens,  and  provided  with  all  the 
comforts  of  life.  We  found  one  of  the  Steeles  at 
home.  He  told  us  that  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
(5=) 


STEELE'S   RANCH.  53 

season  they  milked  between  six  and  seven  hundred 
cows;  but  as  the  feed  grows  shorter  with  the  ad- 
vance  of   the   dry  season,  the    number   gradually 
dwindles  down   twenty-five  to  fifty  per  cent.     As 
fast  as  the  cows  dry  up  they  are  sent  to  the  moun- 
tains and  allowed  to  remain  until  the  rains  commence, 
in  November  and  December.     The  Steeles  came 
here  about  nine  years  ago,  and  rented  this  ranch 
of  seventeen  thousand  acres  for  six  thousand  dollars 
per   annum,  with   the  privilege  of  purchasing  all 
south  of  the  Gazos  Creek  for  six  dollars  per  acre. 
The  ranch  was  granted  under  the  Mexican  Republic 
to  old  Captain   Graham,  a  Cherokee  Indian  half- 
breed,  formerly  a  Rocky  Mountain  trapper.     He  had 
no  business  tact,  and  old  age  and  aguardiente  com- 
bined had  completely  unfitted  him  for  carrying  on 
this  estate,  and  the  still  larger  and  more  valuable 
one  known  as  Seyante,  near  Santa  Cruz.   Mortgages 
and  lawsuits  eat  it  all  up,  and  it  passed  out  of  his 
hands  for   the  beggarly  sum  of  twenty  thousand 
dollars.     It  was  considered  one  of  the  most  barren 
and   unattractive   localities   on    the   coast,  but  the 
Steeles   saw  its    capabilities,  and   settled  upon   it. 
They  soon  purchased  seven  thousand  acres  of  the 
land  in  the  vicinity  of  their  present  homes,  and  went 
into  the  dairy  business  on  a  large  scale.     Others 
imitated  their  success  on  a  smaller  scale,  and  there 
are  now  over  fifteen  hundred  cows  on  the  ranch. 
These  are  fed  only  on  the  native  "  wild  oats,"  which 
in  place  of  grass  cover  all  the  open  country  of  Cali- 
fornia, but  with  proper  effort  vegetables  could  be 
raised,  to  double  the  milk-producing  capacity  of  the 


54 


IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PA  CIFIC. 


ranch.  Alfalfa  might  flourish  in  some  localities  and 
thus  largely  increase  the  feed;  but  the  long  dry  sea- 
son, extending  from  the  first  of  May  to  November  or 
December,  is  too  much  for  the  tame  grasses  of  the 
A.tlantic  States,  and  no  improvement  in  that  direc- 
tion appears  practicable.  The  native  wild  oats, 
however,  furnish  both  green  feed  and  nourishing 
hay  naturally,  no  cutting  or  housing  being  required. 
As  the  ground  grows  dry  under  the  heat  of  the 
summer  sun,  the  oats  dry  up  and  become  of  a 
bright  golden  color.  All  the  nutritious  properties 
are  perfectly  preserved,  and  so  long  as  no  rain  falls 
upon  this  standing  hay,  it  is  eaten  with  avidity  by 
the  cattle  and  keeps  them  sleek  and  fat.  When  the 
first  rain  comes,  the  oats  break  down  and  fall  upon 
the  earth,  and  in  a  few  weeks  totally  disappear, 
leaving  nothing  whatever  for  the  cattle  to  feed  upon 
until  the  seed,  which  during  the  summer  has  been 
sowing  itself  in  the  cracks  and  crevices  of  the  earth 
formed  by  the  drying  up  of  the  soil,  and  been 
trampled  in  and  covered  up  by  the  hoofs  of  the 
animals,  starts  into  new  life  and  in  a  few  days  clothes 
all  the  hills  in  vivid  green  again. 

Six  years  ago  the  Steeles  made,  from  one  day's 
milk  of  their  own  cows,  a  cheese  of  the  richest  de- 
scription, weighing  within  a  fraction  of  four  thou- 
sand pounds  (two  tons),  which  they  presented  to 
the  Sanitary  Commission.  It  was  exhibited  in  San 
Francisco  until  it  had  produced  several  thousands 
of  dollars,  and  then  cut  up  and  sold  at  one  dollar 
in  gold  per  pound  for  the  benefit  of  the  cause.  A 
cousin  of  the  family,  who  lives  with  them,  enjoys  the 


A   SEMI-TROPICAL    GARDEN.  rr 

rare  distinction  of  being  the  only  man  in  Californiy 
elected,  in  1869,  to  the  Legislature  fairly  and 
squarely  on  the  Fifteenth  Amendment  issue.  They 
find  their  business  so  profitable  that  they  have 
bought  another  ranch  of  only  forty-five  thousand 
acres  in  San  Luis  Obispo  County,  which  they  were, 
then  stocking.  They  intend  to  carry  on  both  dairies, 
but  the  business  of  each  will  be  kept  separate,  and 
the  style  of  the  firms  will  be  "  Steele  Brothers  of 
San  Mateo,"  and  "  Steele  Brothers  of  San  Luis 
Obispo."  For  the  prices  realized  for  their  butter 
and  cheese — they  are  too  far  from  the  city  to  sell 
their  milk — see  the  market  quotations  in  the  San 
Francisco  dailies.  Yet  California  imports  immense 
quantities  of  butter  and  cheese  annually,  while  there 
are  still  millions  of  acres  of  cheap,  unoccupied 
grazing  lands  scattered  all  through  the  State,  from 
San  Diego  to  Del  Norte,  and  from  the  coast  to  the 
far  recesses  of  the  Sierra  Nevada. 

Mr.  Steele  asked  us  to  walk  back  into  the  garden, 
and  see  what  could  be  done  in  six  years  in  the  way 
of  fruit- raising  on  land  which  had,  until  quite  recently, 
been  supposed  fit  only  to  raise  jackass-rabbits  and 
long-horned,  worthless,  and  savage  Spanish  cattle. 
A  little  "  arroyo"  comes  down  from  the  canon  in  the 
mountains  near  the  house,  and  makes  a  bend  around 
the  ground  selected  for  the  garden.    Along  the  bank 
of  this  "arroyo"  willows  and  other  trees  were  planted 
to   aid  the  large,  scattered  live-oaks  which  stood 
there  in  breaking  the  winds.     Thus  sheltered,  the 
apple,  pear,  fig,  plum,   apricot,  peach,   soft-shelled 
almond,  and  other  trees,  grew  up  like  weeds,  and 


k6 


IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 


soon  were  loaded  with  luscious  fruit.  From  one 
apple-tree,  the  second  year  after  it  was  planted  out, 
Mr.  Steele  picked  two  bushels  of  the  finest  apples. 
The  pear-trees  I  found  had  every  branch  propped 
up  separately,  and  on  some  the  fruit  would  weigh  at 
least  four  times  as  much  as  the  entire  tree,  roots, 
trunk,  branches,  and  leaves.  The  figs  were  covered 
with  the  second  crop  of  the  season,  nearly  ripe,  and 
the  plums  were  like  great  yellow  balls  of  sugar  and 
butter.  All  the  fruit  is  perfect ;  even  the  grapes, 
which  flourish  best  in  the  hot,  sunny  valleys,  being 
large  and  delicious.  Every  variety  of  vegetable 
seemed  to  flourish ;  golden  squashes  and  pumpkins 
covered  the  ground,  and  luscious  melons  lay  ripening 
in  the  sun.  Among  the  curiosities  we  noticed  a  bed 
of  peanuts.  These  pets  of  the  Bowery  patrons 
grow  luxuriantly  in  California,  being  largely  culti- 
vated by  the  Chinese  in  Sacramento  Valley,  and  are 
larger  and  better  than  any  imported ;  the  tops  look 
something  like  alfalfa.  All  this  without  irrigation  or 
other  cultivation  than  spading  and  hoeing,  in  the 
most  inhospitable  climate  found  in  California  below 
the  snow-belt  of  the  Sierra  Nevada. 

The  grizzly  bear  still  prowls  in  the  redwoods,  and 
occasionally  comes  down  to  levy  tribute  on  the 
rancheros.  My  friend  showed  me  where  two  huge 
grizzlies  were  seen  lying  in  an  arroyo  sunning  them- 
selves only  a  few  days  before.  The  party  who  saw 
them  had  lost  no  cattle  of  that  description,  and  he, 
in  the  expressive  language  of  California,  "  got  up 
and  dusted"  in  the  opposite  direction  as  fast  as  his 
horse  could  carry  him.     And  well  he  might.     Mr. 


CONTEST  WITH  A    GRIZZLY.  57 

Steele  pointed  out  where  a  fearful  scene  was  enacted 
just  above  his  garden  in  1867.  An  old  she-bear 
came  down  with  her  two  cubs  in  the  day-time  and 
seized  a  hog.  Two  men  employed  on  the  ranch, 
both  Portuguese,  started  to  rescue  the  hog.  One 
had  a  gun,  the  other  only  a  garden  mattock.  They 
found  her  by  the  fence  eating  the  hog,  and  yelled 
at  her  to  drive  her  away.  She  accepted  the  chal- 
lenge, and  with  a  growl  dashed  over  the  fence  and 
after  them.  The  man  with  the  gun  pointed  it  full- 
cocked  at  her  head,  but,  as  he  afterward  admitted, 
when  he  felt  her  hot  breath  in  his  face,  became  de- 
moralized, dropped  the  weapon  and  jumped  over 
the  fence.  His  companion  followed  his  example, 
and  they  jumped  back  and  forth  for  some  minutes 
with  the  enraged  brute  in  close  pursuit.  At  length 
the  man  who  had  the  mattock  started  to  run  across 
the  field  toward  the  house  ;  but  the  bear  caught  him, 
threw  him  down,  bit  him  through  the  thigh,  and  then 
started  after  the  other  assailant.  Had  the  wounded 
man  feigned  death  he  would  have  been  saved ;  but 
not  understanding  grizzly  fighting,  he  jumped  up  and 
began  shouting  for  help.  At  this  she  turned  upon 
him  more  infuriated  than  ever,  and,  seizing  him  by 
the  side,  literally  tore  him  in  pieces,  killing  him  in- 
stantly. The  other  man  escaped.  The  next  morn- 
ing the  bear,  bear-like,  returned  to  finish  the  hog, 
and  was  shot  by  a  party  lying  in  wait  for  her. 

Three  or  four  years  ago  a  San  Franciscan  stay- 
ing at  the  Forest  Home,  on  the  mountains  between 
Santa  Cruz  and  San  Jose,  a  few  miles  east  of  this 
place,  was  one  day  digging  up  a  honeysuckle  bush 


58  IN  THE  MISTS   OF  THE  PACIFIC. 

near  the  house,  when  he  saw  something  stir  in  the 
bushes  and  gave  it  a  poke  with  the  hoe.  A  moment 
later  the  ladies  saw  him  vault  over  the  fence  into 
the  door-yard,  with  a  grizzly  at  his  heels.  He  man- 
aged to  escape,  but  left  a  portion  of  his  pantaloons 
behind  as  a  keepsake.  That  night  the  family  slept 
n  the  second  story  of  the  house  with  the  windows 
fastened  down. 

Almost  every  schoolboy  in  America  is  familiar 
with  stories  of  the  savage  ferocity  and  immense 
strength  of  the  grizzly  bear  of  California.  As  a  rule 
as  I  think  I  may  have  intimated  elsewhere,  hunters 
stories  may  safely  be  taken  with  some  grains  of 
allowance.  The  lion  has  generally  been  represented 
as  the  "  King  of  Beasts,"  and  numberless  are  the 
stories  of  his  courage,  strength,  and  ferocity.  The 
truth  is,  the  lion  is  nothing  but  a  great  overgrown 
cat,  and  his  courage  is  just  that  of  the  cat  on  a  large 
scale,  and  nothing  more.  A  cat  will  fight  when  cor 
nered,  from  sheer  excess  of  cowardice,  but  she 
always  prefers  running.  Find  the  weight  of  a  cat 
and  that  of  a  lion,  and  just  so  many  times  as  the 
lion  is  heavier  than  the  cat,  just  so  much  more  fight 
and  courage  of  the  same  character  exactly  you  will 
find  in  him.  But  the  stories  of  the  dangerous  char- 
acter of  the  grizzly,  unlike  those  relating  to  the  lion, 
are  not  and  cannot  be  exaggerated.  I  know  from 
observation  that  the  oldest  hunters  are  the  most 
afraid  of  a  contest  with  the  grizzly,  and  take  the 
greatest  pains  to  avoid  one.  It  is  always  the 
young,  inexperienced  hunter  who  sallies  out  half 
armed  and  alone  to  fight  a  grizzly ;  and  one  dose 


THE  TRUE  KING  OF  BEASTS.  eg 

is  generally  found  quite  enough  to  cure  him  of  such 
folly. 

The  plain  truth  is,  that  the  grizzly  is  much  better 
entitled  to  the  title  of  King  of  Beasts  than  the  lion. 
He  fears  neither  man  nor  beast,  and,  instead  of 
waiting  to  be  attacked,  will,  if  hungry  or  in  any  way 
out  of  humor,  invariably  become  the  attacking  party 
whatever  the  odds  against  him.  A  lucky  shot  pen- 
etrating the  heart,  breaking  the  vertebra,  or  enter- 
ing the  brain,  will  sometimes  cause  almost  instant 
death ;  but  in  ninety- nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred 
the  first  shot  only  enrages  and  infuriates  him,  and 
renders  him  the  most  dangerous  animal  on  earth  to 
fall  into  the  clutches  of. 

The  bear,  like  the  hog,  is  "  set  in  his  ways,"  ob- 
stinate, and  inclined  to  adhere,  with  unflinching  per- 
tinacity, to  established  customs  and  habits.  He 
never  goes  back  on  the  traditions  of  his  race.  He  is 
the  true  natural  conservative,  believes  to  the  utmost 
in  the  wisdom  of  his  ancestors,  and  hates  innovation. 
He  forgets  nothing,  and  learns  nothing  from  expe- 
rience. You  can  always  count  on  his  doing  a  cer- 
tain thing  in  a  certain  contingency ;  as  they  say  out 
west,  "he  averages  well."  He  invariably  buries  his 
prey  where  he  kills  it,  and  returns  at  night  to  feed 
upon  it.  The  knowledge  of  this  fact  has  before  now 
saved  many  a  hunter's  life.  The  man  who  has  the 
courage  and  nerve  to  lie  still  as  if  dead,  and  never 
cringe  when  he  is  lifted  by  the  bear's  teeth,  stands  a 
chance  of  being  buried  under  a  pile  of  loose  leaves 
and  rubbish,  and  left  for  hours  or  until  night ;  but 
woe  to  him  if  he  moves  so  much  a  finger  before 


Oo  IN   ME  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 

he  knows  that  the  bear  is  out  of  sight ;  his  fate  is 
then  certain.  Rancheros  who  are  annoyed  by  the 
killing-  of  their  stock  by  grizzlies  take  advantage  of 
this  habit  of  the  bear,  and,  on  discovering  where  one 
has  buried  a  steer,  hog.  or  sheep,  construct  a  plat- 
form high  up  on  a  large  tree,  if  one  is  convenient, 
or  dig  a  pit  if  no  tree  is  near,  and  on  the  platform 
or  in  the  pit  await  the  bear's  return  at  night,  pre- 
pared to  give  him  a  volley  from  the  largest  and  most 
formidable  guns  obtainable.  I  have  often  seen  these 
platforms  in  the  Sierra  Nevada  and  Coast  Rangt, 
and  listened  to  the  stories  of  the  hunters  who  "went 
for"  the  grizzlies  there. 

On  the  14th  of  March,  1871,  George  W.  Teel,  a 
youth  of  seventeen  years,  employed  as  a  stock- 
herder  on  the  foothills  of  the  Mount  St.  Helena 
range,  only  five  miles  from  Calistoga,  discovered  the 
track  of  a  grizzly  near  his  camp,  and,  boy-like,  deter- 
mined to  lay  for  him.  Six  hundred  yards  from 
camp  he  dug  a  hole  in  the  ground  deep  enough  to 
wholly  hide  him,  then  hung  a  piece  of  venison  on  a 
tree  near  by,  loaded  his  double-barreled  gun  with 
all  the  powder  he  dared  place  in  it,  and  two-ounce 
slugs,  and  commenced  his  nightly  vigil.  About  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning  he  heard  the  snorting  of  a 
grizzly,  and  on  looking  up,  he  beheld,  about  eight 
feet  off,  two  glaring  eyes  in  the  head  of  a  large-sized 
bear.  It  was  quite  dark  and  foggy.  The  young 
man  leveled  his  gun,  took  aim,  and  as  he  saw  the 
bear  raise  his  head,  he  fired,  and  the  ball  entered 
the  animal's  neck,  breaking  it,  the  slug  ranging 
along  the  back  and  lodging  under  the  skin.     The 


HUNTING  FOR  EXPERIENCE.  6l 

bear  was  so  close  that  the  powder  singed  the  hair 
on  its  breast.  The  grizzly  had  grasped  in  its  teeth 
an  oak  bush,  and  in  one  leap  fell  dead  at  the  feet  of 
its  captor. 

Young  Teel,  having  been  successful,  retired  to  his 
camp  contented.  At  daybreak  he  left  his  couch  and 
went  to  the  place  where  he  had  killed  the  animal, 
and  to  his  surprise  found  he  had  killed  a  grizzly  of 
the  size  of  an  ox,  weighing  fully  eight  hundred 
pounds.     He  was  in  luck. 

About  the  same  time  an  experienced  hunter  in 
Southern  California  met  with  a  terrible  adventure, 
with  more  serious  results.  The  affair  is  related 
by  the  Los  Angeles  Star,  of  February  19th,  1871: 
"John  Searles,  well  known  in  this  section  of  the  State 
as  an  expert  miner,  left  Soledad  Canon  a  few  days 
ago,  with  a  couple  of  friends,  on  a  hunting  expedi- 
tion into  the  mountains  north  and  east  of  La  Liebre 
Rancho,  which  abound  in  deer  and  bear.  Wednes- 
day evening,  the  party  encamped  at  the  foot  of  a 
large  canon,  and,  leaving  his  friends,  Mr.  Searles 
took  his  rifle,  a  Spencer,  and  went  up  the  canon 
hunting;  about  a  mile  from  camp,  he  killed  and 
dressed  a  grizzly.  Judging  from  the  fresh  sign  that 
bear  was  plenty,  he  went  on  up  the  canon,  looking 
for  a  good  place  for  a  hunting  camp.  Half  a  mile 
from  where  he  left  his  horse,  in  very  thick  brush,  he 
came  suddenly  upon  a  large  grizzly,  breaking  down 
the  chemisal,  in  a  thicket.  After  waiting  in  the  trail 
a  few  minutes,  with  his  gun  ready,  the  bear  emerged 
from  the  bush  and  made  a  rush  at  him.  A  ball  from 
the  Spencer  knocked  it  down;  but,  almost  immedi- 


52  IN  THE  MISTS   OF  THE  PACIFIC. 

ately  rising,  the  bear — one  of  the  largest  kind — ■ 
closed  with  him.  The  Spencer  missing  fire  three 
times,  a  terrible  hand-to-hand  combat  ensued,  the 
man  fighting  for  life  with  his  fists,  and  the  bear  fight- 
ing for  death  with  teeth  and  claws.  The  unequal 
conflict  was  not  prolonged.  The  bear,  weakened 
by  loss  of  blood  which  poured  from  the  rifle-ball 
wound,  left  the  man  for  dead,  and  crawling  into  the 
brush,  bled  to  death.  After  the  bear  left,  Mr.  Searles, 
who  had  feigned  death,  arose  and  examined  his 
wounds.  A  bite  from  the  bear  had  broken  his  lower 
jaw  in  several  places,  one  of  his  arms  were  broken, 
and  terrible  wounds  in  the  breast  and  side  were 
bleeding  fast.  In  this  condition  he  crawled  to  his 
horse,  mounted  and  rode  to  camp.  He  was  brought 
to  this  city  last  night,  by  his  friends,  and  best  sur- 
gical aid  summoned  to  his  assistance,  although  it  is 
feared  that  his  injuries  are  fatal." 

"If  you  play  with  the  bear,  you  must  take  bear's 
play,"  is  a  common  saying,  but  its  full  force  and 
significance  can  only  be  appreciated  by  one  who  has 
had  a  tussle  with  a  California  grizzly. 

The  Stockton  Reptiblican  of  March  14th,  1871  — 
the  very  day  on  which  both  the  last  related  affairs 
occurred — gave  the  following  account  of  a  grizzly 
fight  which  occurred  in  the  Valley  of  the  San  Joa- 
quin a  few  days  previously:  "W.  D.  Fowler  and 
George  Day  were  out  hunting  in  the  hills  near  Oris- 
temba  Creek,  on  the  west  side  of  San  Joaquin  River, 
in  Stanislaus  county,  and  came  upon  a  large  female 
grizzly  bear,  which  they  commenced  firing  at.  The 
bear  retreated  slowly,  and  finally  went  to  her  lair 


AD  VEN7 URE  ON  THE  SAN  JOAQUIN.  £ ^ 

in  some  underbrush.     The  men  kept  up  a  steady 
fire  at  her  at  long  range,  the  bear  fighting  desper- 
ately, tearing  the  brush  and  breaking  limbs,  but  re- 
fusing to  leave   her  position.     After  awhile,   they 
noticed  her  carry  off,  one  at  a  time,  two  small  cubs 
and  hide  them  in  the  bush.     Finding  their  range  too 
lone  to  be  effective,  the  hunters  undertook  to  reach 
a  position  nearer  the  bear  by  going  around  a  hill, 
and  just  when  they  were  ascending  the  knoll  to  get 
a  sight  of  her,  she  suddenly  came  over  the  brow 
and  dashed  at  them  in  the  most  ferocious  manner 
When  discovered,  she  was  so  near  them  that  escape 
was  impossible,  and  the  men  stood  their  ground. 
On  she  came,  tearing  up  the  bushes  and  biting  the 
shrubs.     When  within  ten  feet  of  Fowler  he  fired, 
and  the  shot  broke  her  neck.     She  fell,  and  a  shot 
from  Day's  rifle  passed  through  her  heart.     It  was 
a  narrow  escape.     The  hunters  captured  the  two 
cubs  the  mother  had  hid  in  the  brush,  and  another, 
which  still    remained  in   the  nest.     The  two  cubs 
hidden  in  the  brush  were  colored  precisely  alike, 
while  the  one  remaining  in  the  nest  was  somewhat 
darker,  from  which  the  hunters  concluded  that  the 
old  bear  they  killed  had   only  secreted   her  own 
young,  and  that  the  one  remaining  in  the  nest  be- 
longed to  another  bear  and  another  family." 

In  the  spring  of  1869,  a  grizzly  of  the  largest  size 
"ranched"  in  the  San  Andreas  Valley,  near  the  new 
reservoir  of  the  Spring  Valley  Water  Company, — 
from  which  San  Francisco  is  supplied, — within  fifteen 
miles  of  the  Golden  City,  for  several  weeks.  No- 
body about  there  had  lost  any  bears,  and  nobody 


64  IN  THE  MISTS  OF   THE  PACIFIC. 

went  after  him,  so  he  fattened  on  the  luxuriant 
clover  and  wild  oats  until  the  range  began  to  give 
out,  and  then  leisurely  departed  for  the  mountains. 
No  one  asked  him  to  come,  and  nobody  cared  to 
delay  his  departure. 

The  grizzly  is  susceptible  of  domestication,  but  his 
moods  are  varied  even  then.  A  few  years  ago, 
while  a  museum  was  being  moved  from  one  part  of 
San  Francisco  to  another,  old  Samson — who  chawed 
up  "  Grizzly  Adams"  once  upon  a  time  and  rendered 
him  beautiful  for  life — got  out  of  his  cage  and  took 
possession  of  the  lower  part  of  the  city.  A  crowd 
of  excited  men  and  boys  were  soon  at  his  heels, 
endeavoring  to  corral  him,  but  for  a  long  time  with- 
out success.  At  length,  tired  of  picking  up  damaged 
fruit  from  the  gutters,  upsetting  ash-barrels  and  swill- 
barrels,  and  frightening  all  the  women  and  children 
on  the  street  out  of  their  seven  senses,  he  took 
refuge  in  a  livery  stable,  where  he  was  speedily  sur- 
rounded and  cornered.  A  number  of  men  formed 
a  hollow  square  around  him  with  pitchforks,  and  an 
Irishman  with  a  rope  formed  into  a  noose  crawled 
up  within  reach  of  the  beleaguered  animal,  and 
would  have  lassoed  him,  but  for  the  fact  that  he 
was  afraid  to  attempt  it.  "Why  don't  you  slip  it 
over  his  nose  so  that  he  can't  bite  ? "  shouted  a  by- 
stander to  him.  "  Well,  you  see  I  would,  but  thin  I 
ain't  acquainted  with  him  jist!"  was  the  hesitating 
reply.  "  Oh,  never  mind  being  acquainted  with  him  ; 
don't  stand  on  ceremony  with  a  bear.  Just  take  off 
your  hat  and  introduce  yourself!"  was  the  jeering 
rejoinder ;  and  a  roar  of  laughter  from  the  entire 


THE  BEAR  AND    THE  BULL.  65 

crowd  testified  to  their  keen  appreciation  of  the 
joke.  In  January,  1870,  I  saw  that  same  bear  in 
the  Plaza  de  Toros,  in  the  city  of  Vera  Cruz, 
Mexico,  dig  a  hole  large  enough  to  hold  an  elephant, 
take  a  bull  which  had  been  set  to  fight  him  in  his 
paws  as  if  he  were  an  infant,  carry  him  to  the  pit, 
hurl  him  into  it  head  foremost,  slap  him  on  the  side 
with  his  tremendous  paws  until  his  breath  was  half 
knocked  out  of  his  body,  and  then  hold  him  down 
with  one  paw  while  he  deliberately  buried  him  alive 
by  raking  the  earth  down  upon  him  with  the  other. 
Samson  had  not  a  tooth  to  bite  with  at  that  time, 
they  having  been  in  the  course  of  years  and  many 
fights  worn  down  to  the  gums  ;  but  his  strength  was 
that  of  an  elephant,  and  his  claws,  eight  inches  in 
length,  curved  like  a  rainbow  and  sharp  as  a  knife 
would  enable  him  to  tear  open  anything  made  oi 
flesh  and  blood  as  you  or  I  would  tear  open  a 
banana. 

I  am  satisfied  that  an  average  grizzly  could  at  any 
time  whip  the  strongest  African  lion  in  a  fair  stand- 
up  fight,  while  a  full-grown  bull  is  no  more  to  him 
than  a  rat  is  to  the  largest  house-cat. 

.,  The  grizzly  is  becoming  scarce  in  some  parts  of 
the  State,  but  he  is  still  found  in  great  numbers  in 
the  Coast  Range  Mountains,  from  San  Diego  to  Del 
Norte. 

The  Mexican  or  native  Californian  vaqtieros  in 
Santa  Barbara  and  neighboring  counties,  riding  out 
three  or  four  together  on  their  fleet,  well-trained 
caballos,  will  without  fear  attack  a  grizzly,  lasso  him 
from  different  directions,  and  not  only  conquer  him, 

5 


55  IN  THE  MISTS  OR  THE  PACIFIC. 

but  actually  so  tie  him  up  and  entangle  him  as  to 
eventually  tire  him  out,  and  bring  him  into  the  town 
an  unresisting  prisoner. 

But  it  is  not  every  man  who  can  do  that  little 
trick.  The  natives  relate  with  pardonable  exulta- 
tion the  story  of  a  Yankee  who  came  to  California 
in  early  days,  and  soon  acquired  the  trick  of  throw- 
ing the  lasso  with  considerable  dexterity.  Hearing 
others  talk  of  lassoing  the  grizzly,  he  started  out  full 
of  confidence,  to  show  them  that  he  could  do  what 
any  other  man  could  do  in  that  line.  He  soon  raised 
a  bear,  threw  the  lasso  with  unerring  aim,  and  reined 
back  his  trembling  steed  to  give  the  brute  an 
astonisher;  when  the  rieta — which  is  attached  al- 
ways to  the  pommel  of  the  saddle — came  up  taut. 
Judge  of  his  astonishment,  my  little  friends,  when 
that  bear  quietly  assumed  a  sitting  position,  took 
hold  of  the  rieta,  and  commenced  to  draw  it  in,  hand 
over  hand !  The  hapless  descendant  of  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers  stuck  to  the  horse  and  saddle  until  he  saw 
the  slack  all  drawn  in,  and  the  bear  and  horse  com- 
ing rapidly  together, — with  what  result  could  not  be 
for  a  moment  doubted, — then  hastily  descended  and 
hunted  a  tree,  abandoning  the  horse  to  the  under- 
writers. He  had  learned  only  half  of  the  trick. 
Two  skillful  men,  operating  from  opposite  sides,  can 
master  a  bear  and  choke  him  between  them ;  but 
with  only  one  man,  one  horse,  and  one  bear,  it  is 
"  bear  and  for  bear  "  all  the  time. 

Returning  from  the  Steele  Brothers'  dairy  at 
Point  Alio  Nuevo,  we  passed  the  famed  "  Pebble 
Beach  of  Pescadero,"  a  great  resort,  especially  for 


PEBBLE  BEACH  OF  PESCADERO.  67 

ladies  and  children,  in  the  summer  season.  Two 
ledges  of  sharp,  jagged  rocks  jut  out  into  the  ocean 
about  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  apart.  Between 
them  extends  a  sandstone  bluff  some  thirty  feet  in 
height,  in  front  of  which  stretches  the  beach  some 
twenty  to  fifty  feet  in  width  at  high  or  low  tide. 
The  beach  is  composed  wholly  of  pebbles,  from  the 
size  of  a  grain  of  wheat  to  that  of  a  good-sized  wal- 
nut. They  are  of  all  colors — white,  red,  brown, 
yellow,  green,  and  variegated.  Those  of  a  beauti- 
ful opaline  hue  are  most  plentiful,  and  all  are  highly 
polished  by  attrition.  Plain  agates,  moss-agates, 
cornelians  and  greenstones  abound  ;  and  it  is  claimed 
that  the  more  precious  stones,  including  diamonds 
and  rubies,  are  sometimes  met  with.  The  wife  of 
Francisco  Garcia,  a  well-known  saloon-keeper  on 
Montgomery  Street,  in  San  Francisco,  has  a  genuine 
diamond  which  she  found  here,  but  I  am  not  certain 
that  it  was  placed  there  by  purely  natural  agencies 
Hundreds  of  tons  of  the  pebbles  are  washed  up  by 
every  storm,  and  it  is  supposed  that  there  is  a  layer 
or  stratum  of  soft  rock  or  clay  in  which  they  are 
imbedded,  extending  out  into  the  sea  from  beneath 
the  sandstone.  Every  day,  in  summer,  many  ladies 
and  children  go  down  to  this  beach  pebble-hunting, 
carrying  their  lunch-baskets  with  them.  They  lie 
down  at  full  length  upon  their  faces  on  the  drifts  of 
polished  pebbles,  and  with  a  stick  dig  down  into  the 
mass  in  search  of  special  beauties.  A  quart  of  fine 
ones  is  a  good  day's  work,  and  a  lady  of  unusualiy 
fastidious  taste  will  frequently  work  all  day  for  a 
cupfull.     Collections  of  these  pebbles  may  be  seen 


6$  IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 

in  most  of  the  better  class  of  houses  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, and  along  the  coast,  though  they  cannot  be 
considered  as  of  any  great  value.  I  walked  along 
the  beach,  but  did  not  see  any  diamonds,  and  filled 
my  pockets  at  random.  Some  of  the  moss-agate 
and  similar  stones  make  really  handsome  jewelry 
when  cut  and  set  in  gold.  Santa  Cruz,  lower  down 
the  coast,  has  also  a  pebble  beach,  but  it  is  not 
equal  to  this  at  Pescadero.  . 

At  the  beach  I  saw  one  of  the  characters  of  the 
locality — Cona,  an  immense  Newfoundland  dog. 
One  day  a  little  girl  picking  pebbles  was  caught  by 
a  huee  roller  from  the  Pacific,  and  carried  out  into 
the  roaring  surf.  Cona  dashed  in,  caught  her  by 
the  hair,  and,  after  a  stout  struggle,  brought  her 
ashore  alive.  Of  course  Cona  became  a  hero  at 
once,  and  was  duly  lionized  and  spoiled.  He  en- 
joyed his  dignity  for  some  time,  but  eventually, 
finding  himself  neglected,  he  determined,  by  a  bold 
stroke,  to  regain  his  popularity.  Starting  off  for  the 
beach,  he  saw  a  lady  out  swimming.  He  at  once 
rushed  in,  seized  her  by  the  hair,  and,  in  spite  of  her 
frantic  resistance,  landed  her  on  the  beach.  He  has 
become  a  necessary  nuisance,  and  now  insists  on 
rescuing  every  man,  woman,  and  child  whom  he 
catches  swimming.  He  was  looking  for  somebody 
to  rescue  when  we  came  along  there — but  looked 
in  vain  ;  it  was  not  a  good  day  for  rescuing,  and  he 
was  sad  at  heart  and  dejected  of  mien. 

The  age  attained  by  the  native  Spanish-American 
— and  usually  part  Indian — inhabitants  of  this  coast 
is  truly  marvelous.     I  never  knew  but  one  of  them 


THE  OLDEST  INHABITANT.  gg 

to  die,  and  he  might  have  lived  to  a  green  old  age 
had  he  not  been  knocked  down  and  run  over  by  a 
runaway  flour-mill  truck  team,  on  Pine  street,  in 
San  Francisco,  in  1868.  He  was  one  hundred  and 
four  years  old  when  he  was  thus  prematurely  cut 
off.  It  is  an  undoubted  fact  that  Cimon  Avilos, 
now  or  recently  living  at  Todos  Santos  Bay,  Lower 
California,  was  one  of  the  military  guard  who  pre- 
sented arms  when  Padre  Junipero  Serra  raised  the 
cross  at  the  Mission  San  Diego,  in  July,  in  the  year 
of  our  Lord  and  Master  1 769.  This  old  conquistador 
had  been  a  soldier  in  the  Spanish  army  several 
years  before  that  event,  so  that  his  age  to-day  can 
be  hardly  less  than  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
years.  I  have  half  a  notion  to  go  down  there  some 
day  and  get  the  jovial  young  fellow  to  come  up  to 
San  Francisco,  and  take  a  little  pasear  over  the 
Pacific  Railroad.  At  Pescadero  the  claim  to  being 
"the  oldest  inhabitant"  is  at  issue  between  Don 
Salvador  Mosquito,  a  Mission  Indian,  and  Sefior 
Don  Felipe  Armas,  a  Californian  of  Spanish  parent- 
age. Armas  remembers  that  when  King  Kameha- 
meha  I.,  of  Hawaii,  found  that  the  cattle  which  had 
grown  up  wild  on  his  islands  had  become  an  un- 
bearable nuisance,  and  sent  over  to  this  country 
for  vaqueros  to  kill  them  off — a  historical  fact — he, 
Armas,  was  selected  as  one  of  the  party.  He  was 
then  said  to  be  thirty-five  years  of  age,  but  so  many 
years  have  since  elapsed  that  he  "  has  lost  the  run 
of  them  entirely."  The  number  of  his  immediate 
descendants  is  still  increasing  at  the  rate  of  one 
yearly.     Salvador  Mosquito  was  baptized  under  an- 


IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE    PACIFIC. 

7° 

other  name,  but  the  stout-built  Mission  in  which  the 
ceremony  was  performed  has  long  since  crumbled 
into  dust,  and   the  vaqueros,  who,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Holy  Fathers  (also  dead),  went  out  to 
lasso  him  and  bring  him  in  for  the  glory  of  God, 
have  for  many  a  year  been  hunting  ethereal  cattle 
on  phantom  steeds,  over  the  ranchos  of  the  blessed. 
I  saw  him  the  other  day.      He  came  down  to  the 
grocery  to  get  a  bottle  of  whisky,  to  which  he  is  very 
partial  when  he  cannot  get  milk,  which  is  usually  the 
case.     This  antidiluvian  joker  is  always  as  dry  as  a 
fish.     They  trust  him   at  the  grocery  until  his  bill 
amounts  to  two  or  three  dollars,  and  then  demand  the 
coin.  Lifting  his  hands,  with  the  expression  of  a  dying 
saint,  the  old  rascal  ejaculates,  "  Yomuy  pobre,scfior! 
Yo  tcngo  nada,  nada,  nada/  seuor/"  with  solemn 
earnestnesss  and  every  appearance  of  perfect  hon- 
esty.    But  the  clerk  invariably  goes  for  him  in  the 
most  business-like  manner.  Placing  his  elbow  against 
the  venerable  patriarch's  windpipe,  he  pushes  him 
back  against  the  wall,  and,  bringing  the  pressure  up 
to  about  the  point  of  one  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  to 
the  square  inch,  gradually  cuts  off  his  supply  of  breath 
and  consequent  power  of  resistance ;   then  running 
the  other  hand  into  his  pocket  produces  a  more  or 
less  well- filled  purse,  from  which  he  repays  the  es- 
tablishment and  squares  the  account.     Then  Don 
Salvador  denounces  the  act  as  a  "damned  Yankee 
trick,"  goes  out  in  front  of  the  store,  spits  in  the 
dust,  mixes  up  a  little  mud,  in  which  he  dips  his  finger, 
and  making  crosses  and  other  cabalistic  signs  upon 
the  door,  and  windows,  and  walls,  calls  down  the 


\  1 1  m      <\w\x     f'KWp^r,:,^^ 


DON  SALVADOR   MOSQUITO.  yT 

vengeance  of  an  offended  Heaven  on  the  accursed 

o 

tienda  and  everything  therein.      "May  its  walls  fall 
out,    its   roof  cave  in,   its    contents   be    ground  to 
powder,  and  its  site  be  given  over,  as  a  last  crown- 
ing curse,  to  the  everlasting  habitation  and  proprie- 
torship of  the  worthy  descendants  of  the  chief  robber, 
son  of  a  priest  and  a  woman  without  virtue,  who 
now  occupies  it!"     Then  he  goes  home  with  a  heart 
full  of  wrath  and  righteous  bitterness.     Next  morn- 
ing he  returns  to  see  the  ruins,  is  duly  astonished 
at  seeing  the  place  stand  unharmed,  goes  in  and 
commences  a  new  account.     Mosquito  appears  to 
be  a  man  of  strong  but  transitory  prejudices.     His 
tribe  many  years  ago  dwindled  down  to  some  forty 
or  fifty,  who,  under  the  command  of  the  chief,  Pom- 
ponio,   made   their   headquarters    in    the    redwooa 
forest  above  Pescadero,  near  to  the  source  of  the 
stream  now  bearing  his  name.     From  thence  they 
made  periodical  forays  on  the  ranchos  below ;  but  as 
the  good  Fathers  had  caught  and  "  converted  "  all 
their  female  friends,  they  finally  went  down  to  the 
old  Mission  Santa  Clara  or  San  Jose — I  am  not  cer- 
tain which — and,  breaking  into  the  corral  one  nieht. 
carried  off  a  "mahala"  apiece  from  under  the  very 
noses  of  their  pious  guardians.    For  this  daring  act 
of  sacrilege    they    were    pursued    by   the    Spanish 
soldiers  to  their  mountain  fastness  and  exterminated. 
Mosquito  not  being  big  enough  for  slaughter  was 
not  killed,  but  was  caught  and  baptized.     He  is  a 
buen  Christiano,  especially  when  about  half-full  of 
whisky.     I  have  calculated  the  number  of  red  pep- 
pers he  must  have  eaten  since  that  time,  and  the 


j  2  IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PA  CI  TIC. 

aggregate  is  something  more  bulky  than  Mount 
Diablo,  and  it  would  take  more  figures  to  express 
it  than  are  required  in  the  annual  exhibit  of  our 
national  debt. 

"Pescadero"  is  the  Spanish  for  "fishery,"  and  the 
name  is  indicative.  The  creeks  which  come  down 
from  the  mountains  all  alone:  this  coast  swarm  with 
the  spotted  trout  of  California,  and  afford  fine  sport 
in  the  early  part  of  the  season.  In  places  along 
their  banks,  the  honeysuckle  bushes  and  other 
shrubs  and  vines  form  a  chapparal  so  dense  that 
you  must  wade  for  miles  to  whip  the  stream ;  but 
one  hundred,  two  hundred,  or  even  three  hundred 
trout  are  often  basketed  in  a  single  day's  fishing  by 
one  individual.  It  does  not  rain  here  from  April 
until  the  last  of  November  or  December ;  but  as 
the  days  become  shorter,  and  the  sun's  rays  less 
powerful,  the  evaporation  which  caused  the  streams 
to  dwindle  to  mere  strings  of  detached  ponds  de- 
creases, and  all  over  the  State,  especially  in  the 
Coast  Range,  the  rivers  commence  to  rise.  Thomp- 
son, a  hospitable  landlord,  took  me  down  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Pescadero  for  a  little  sport.  We  sent 
a  Mexican  after  worms  for  bait.  The  Mexican  sent 
a  negro,  and  we  sent  a  Chinaman  after  the  negro, 
and  eot  them  all  at  last.  The  row  down  the  creek 
was  short.  We  saw  hundreds  of  mallards  and  teal, 
which  we  could  not  shoot,  because  the  law  forbids  it 
— very  properly — until  the  15th  of  the  month,  and 
large  flocks  of  long-billed  curlew  and  other  birds, 
such  as  crows,  buzzards,  gulls,  etc.,  etc.,  which  we  did 
not  want  to  kill.    There  is  a  bar  at  the  mouth  of  the 


SHOOTING  SEA  LIONS.  j, 

creek,  and  we  chained  our  boat  to  a  high  rock  inside 
it  and  walked  down  to  the  ocean.  The  shores  were 
lined  with  drift,  trunks  of  great  pine  and  redwood 
trees,  timbers  of  wrecked  ships,  etc.,  etc.,  and  the 
scenery  was  wildly  romantic.  We  passed  the  fester- 
ing carcasses  of  half  a  dozen  great  sea  lions,  which 
had  been  killed  by  a  fishing  party  with  Henry  rifles 
some  weeks  before.  The  fish  come  into  the  creek 
with  the  tide,  and  bite  best  before  the  ebb  com- 
mences. If  the  sea  lions  who  cover  the  rocks  just 
outside,  follow  them  into  the  creek,  the  fish  all  run 
out — and  there  is  no  more  sport  that  day.  So  the 
fishermen  shoot  some  of  the  sea-lions  to  make  the 
rest  leave.  Before  we  reached  the  mouth  we  saw 
two  wolves  on  the  opposite  shore,  running  around 
by  the  edge  of  the  breakers  and  playing  like  dogs. 
One  ran  off  when  he  saw  us,  and  the  other  lifted  up 
his  nose  and  voice,  and  treated  us  to  the  most  vivid 
illustration  imaginable  of 

"  The  wolfs  lone  howl  on  Onalaska's  shore," 

and  then  followed  his  companion.  As  we  rounded 
the  bluff  we  saw  some  rocks  just  off  shore  covered 
with  sea-lions.  It  was  low  tide,  and  we  could  run 
out  to  within  fifty  yards  of  them.  I  had  a  large- 
sized  Smith  &  Wesson  revolver,  a  capital  weapon 
for  such  use,  and  as  they  threw  up  their  heads  to 
look  at  us,  I  sent  a  bullet  into  the  side  of  a  bie 
spotted  fellow  who  was  lying  high  up  and  presented 
a  good  mark.  The  ball  struck  him  with  a  dull  thud, 
and  as  he  rolled  off  into  the  waves  the  whole  herd 
went  splashing  after  him.     Half  a  dozen  of  them 


y<  IN  THE  MISTS  OF  THE  PACIFIC. 

swam  down  in  a  line  to  within  twenty  or  thirty 
yards  of  us,  and  looked  at  us  with  their  great  lus- 
trous brown  eyes,  whether  in  sorrow  or  in  anger  we 
could  not  tell,  until  I  hit  one  on  his  head,  and  as  the 
bullet  glanced  off,  he  disappeared  with  a  grunt  and 
porpoise-like  plunge.  Thompson  took  the  pistol, 
and  as  one  rose  again  fired  and  hit  him  squarely  in 
the  mouth.  He  shook  his  head  from  side  to  side, 
as  if  blind  with  pain,  and  then  went  down,  leaving 
great  dark  spots  in  the  water.  They  all  started  off 
then  southward,  and  I  was  not  sorry.  Inveterate 
sportsman  that  I  have  been  from  my  youth  up,  I 
cannot  get  over  the  feeling  that  the  killing  of  de- 
fenseless creatures  like  these,  and  allowing  their 
bodies  to  rot  on  the  beach,  is  something  akin  to 
murder. 

The  rocks  we  stood  on,  arid  which  are  covered  at 
hi^h  tide,  were  incrusted  with  mussels  of  immense 
size.  Some  of  them  measure  twelve  inches  in 
length,  and  Thompson  tells  me  that  he  has  seen 
them  fifteen  inches  long.  They  are  fat  and  luscious, 
and  a  few  epicures  come  down  to  the  coast  every 
season  to  indulge  in  clam-bakes  and  mussel-roasts  ; 
but  this  species  of  shell-fish  is  so  common,  and  con- 
sequently cheap,  that  not  one  in  ten  of  the  people 
of  California  ever  eat  them.  In  holes  in  the  rocks, 
filled  with  pure  sea-water,  we  saw  curious  things 
like  great  sunflowers  with  bright-green  petals. 
These  we  could  not  detach  from  the  rocks,  and  at 
one  touch  they  would  curl  up  into  a  slippery  ball 
with  all  the  petals  hidden  inside. 

We  went  back  to  our  boat  as  the  tide  came  boom- 


;--;•.  , 


SPORT  ON  THE  SEA-SHORE. 


75 


ing  in,  and  prepared  to  fish  for  salmon-trout,  as  they 
are  called ;  really  they  are  yearling  and  two-year- 
old  salmon.  They  will  bite  at  a  worm,  spoon,  or 
iiy,  but  best  at  worms.  I  had  hardly  put  in  my  hook 
before  a  noble  fellow  made  the  line  fairly  hiss  through 
the  water  for  a  few  minutes.  Then  we  drew  him, 
panting  and  exhausted  with  his  struggles,  alongside 
the  rocks,  and  with  a  landing  net  got  him  into  the 
boat.  He  was  twenty  inches  in  length,  and  the 
handsomest  fish  I  ever  caught.  Eight-  and  ten- 
pounders  are  common,  and  they  are  the  most  de- 
licious fish  for  frying  or  broiling  which  ever  swam 
the  sea.  Great  crabs  came  in  also  with  the  tide, 
and  we  dipped  several  of  them  out  with  our  net. 
In  two  hours  we  corralled  fourteen  salmon-trout7 
losing  several  more  by  hooks  breaking,  and  then, 
the  slack-water  coming-  on  and  the  fish  ceasing  to 
bite  with  avidity,  hoisted  sail  and  went  swiftly  glid 
ing  back  up  the  stream  to  the  hotel.  It  was,  all  in 
all,  the  best  morning's  sport  I  have  ever  enjoyed  in 
my  life,  and  I  have  shot  and  fished  from  the  Red 
River  of  the  North  to  the  Rio  Grande,  and  from  tne 
Atlantic  to  the  Pacific. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

PESCADERO    TO    SANTA    CRUZ. 

Down  the  Coast  toward  Santa  Cruz. — The  Moss  and  Shell  Beaches  of  Pes- 
cadero. — A  Disgusted  Hunter.— A  Grizzly  BeaT  Procession. — A  Mutual 
Surprise  and  Double  Stampede. — The  Bear  Fever. — The  Buck  Fever 
and  Prairie-Hen  Fever. — How  Jim  Wheeler  Killed  the  Buck.— -How  Old 
S.  killed  Three  at  one  Shot.  A  Spanish-American  Gentleman  of  Scien- 
tific Attainments  and  Undoubted  Veracity. — View  of  the  Bay  of  Monte- 
rey and  the  Valley  and  Mountains  of  Santa  Cruz. 

Pescadero  numbers  amonQf  its  attractions  a  "Moss 
Beach,"  where  the  ladies  who  visit  the  place  go  to 
gather  the  beautiful,  delicate,  many-hued  sea-mosses 
which  are  found  in  such  abundance  all  along-  the 
Pacific  Coast,  but  in  highest  perfection  on  the  shores 
of  Central  California.  These  mosses  are  torn  loose 
by  the  storms,  and  thrown  ashore  by  the  tides  in 
great  abundance  in  some  localities,  this  "  Moss 
Beach"  being-  one  of  them.  The  ladies  gather  them 
at  low  tide,  strip  them  from  the  glutinous,  leather- 
like substance  to  which  they  are  found  adhering,  and 
place  them  in  salt  water,  to  be  kept  fresh  until  they 
are  ready  to  dry  them.  The  delicate  sprays,  with 
fibers  finer  than  any  silk,  are  with  infinite  labor 
spread  out  with  pliers,  or  other  small  instruments, 
upon  the  open  leaves  of  an  old  ledger  or  other 
book  of  hard  paper,  and  pressed  carefully  while 
(/6) 


SHELL  BEACH  OF  PESCADERO.  -  - 

drying.  When  fully  dried  they  are  taken  off  the 
paper  carefully,  and  cleaned  with  a  soft  brush  to 
remove  any  mold  or  other  blemishes,  and  are  then 
ready  for  use  in  the  preparation  of  moss-baskets, 
pictures,  etc.,  etc.  Nothing  can  be  more  beautiful 
than  the  work  thus  produced  by  ladies  of  taste,  and 
no  special  teaching  or  experience  is  required  to  en- 
able them  to  do  it  well.  These  mosses,  when  dried 
ready  for  use,  readily  command  high  prices  at  the 
East  and  in  California,  the  demand  being  always 
large.  There  is  also  a  "Shell  Beach"  in  the  vicinity 
of  Pescadero,  where  beautiful  sea-shells  are  gathered. 
The  finest  shell  on  the  Pacific  Coast  is  the  great 
abalone  (pron.  "ab-a-/<?-ne"),  a  mammoth  univalve, 
which  is  found  most  abundantly  and  most  perfect 
along  the  shores  of  the  Bay  of  Monterey,  and  thence 
southwards  to  San  Diesro.  The  inside  of  the  shell 
is  rainbow-hued  and  very  brilliant,  and  when  the 
rough  outside  has  been  ground  and  polished  away 
they  make  beautiful  ornaments  for  the  mantel  and 
cabinet.  Belt-buckles  and  other  jewelry,  which 
would  be  "perfectly  lovely"  if  not  so  cheap  and 
common,  are  made  from  these  shells. 

From  Pescadero  to  Santa  Cruz  is  thirty-six  miles, 
by  the  road  which  winds  along  the  coast  past  Point 
Alio  Nuevo  and  Pigeon  Point  to  the  Bay  of  Mon- 
terey, and  thence  southeastward,  through  a  rich  and 
highly-cultivated  farming  region,  to  the  old  Spanish 
Mission  on  the  hill,  below  and  around  which  the 
modern  town,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  thriv- 
ing  in  California,    has   grown   up   within    the    past 


yg  PESCADERO  TO  SANTA   CRUZ. 

fifteen  years.  What  a  glorious  gallop  we — Chiri- 
moya  and  I — had  over  the  clean,  hard,  undulating 
road  on  that  autumn  morning  after  I  left  Pescadero! 
Californians  will  understand  me  and  pardon  my  en- 
thusiasm, possibly  sympathize  with  me  in  it;  but  you 
of  the  older  and  more  staid  and  conventional  East 
cannot  do  so,  and  I  pass  the  description,  as-  you 
would  inevitably  pass  it  if  you  came  upon  it  in 
print.  Passing  over  a  pine-clad  spur  of  Santa  Cruz 
mountains,  which  here  come  close  down  to  the  coast, 
we  halted  for  a  time  to  rest  and  look  about.  This 
is  a  famous  place  for  gathering  the  pine-cones,  with 
fragments  of  which  ladies  are  wont  to  construct 
elaborately  wrought  picture- frames  and  other  "or- 
namental" work,  very  ugly,  and  very  effective  as 
dust-catchers,  but  excellent  things  for  presents  to 
religiously  inclined  friends,  who  are  thereby  brought 
to  a  realizing  appreciation  of  the  force  of  the  scrip- 
tural maxim,  "It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  re- 
ceive." A  hunter,  who  had  followed  a  deer  down 
from  the  heights  above,  toward  the  coast,  but  lost 
him,  joined  me  as  I  reclined  upon  the  warm,  dry 
ground  upon  the  hill-side,  enjoying  the  delicious 
sense  of  quiet  and  absence  of  care  and  life's  petty 
annoyances  which  comes  with  solitude,  mountain 
air,  and  autumn  sunshine,  and  we  swapped  stories 
of  forest  and  mountain  life  and  adventure,  in  this 
and  other  lands,  for  an  hour  or  two.  He  told  me 
with  infinite  gusto,  and  a  true  frontiersman's  rude 
but  hearty  appreciation  of  the  grotesquely  humor- 
ous, how  a  friend  of  his,  who  was,   and  is,   a  sort  of 


GRIZZLY  BEAR  PROCESSION. 


79 


Mr.  Toots  in  sportsmanship  and  woodcraft,  came 
down  here  once  from  San  Francisco  in  pursuit  of 
game,  and  wandering  out  into  the  woods  upon  this 
same  hill,  fell  asleep  one  delicious  summer  afternoon 
beneath   a    shady   tree.     When    he   awoke   it  was 
almost  sunset,   and  the    coolness    of  evening  was 
coming  on.     He  sat  up,  looked  about  aim,  rubbed 
his  eyes,  wondered  like  Rip  Van  Winkle  how  long 
he  had  been  lying  there,  and  how  long  it  would  take 
him   to  walk  back,  empty-handed  as  he  was,  to  his 
hotel.     Just  then  a  rustling  and  cracking  noise.  fr3m 
a  clump  of  chaparral  about  a  hundred  yards  away, 
attracted  his  attention.     Out  walked  a  grizzly  bear, 
a  monarch  of  his  kind,  yawned,  ran  his  red  tongue 
lazily  over  the  outside  of  his  jaw,  humped  his  back 
as  if  to  test  the  condition  and  pliability  of  his  verte- 
brae, then  advanced  directly  toward  the  tree  under 
which  the  astonished  but  hardly  delightec  San  Fran 
ciscan  sat,  evidently  without  having  noticed  him  and 
blissfully  unconscious  of  his  presence.     His  grizzly 
majesty  had  hardly  advanced  twenty  yards  when  a 
female  of  the  same  species,  and  but  a  little  less  in 
size,  followed  in  his  wake  and  went  through  almost 
the  same  calisthenic  exercises.     The  first  bear's  ap- 
pearance made  the  man  of  "  Frisco"  gasp  for  breath, 
the  second  sent  the  blood  back  to  his  neart  in  a  tor 
rent,  the  force  of  which  almost  caused  that  organ  to 
jump  out  of  his  breast.     It  never  rains  •.  a  third  bear 
followed  the  second,  licked  his   chops,  humped  his 
back,  gave  a  half  growl,  half  whine  oi   satisfaction 
and  advanced  in  the  same  direction  at  a  siow,  sham- 
bling pace.     Every  word  he  had  ever  spoKen  in  any 


gQ  PESCADERO  TO  SANTA   CRUZ. 

near  or  remote  sense  disrespectful  of  bald-headed 
men  flashed  through  our  hero's  mind  in  an  instant. 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  slee "  the  forward  bear 

was  already  within  thirty  yards  of  him,  and  before 
the  prayer  could  be  half  finished  would  be  upon  him. 
Something  more  energetic  and  positive  had  to  be 
done  immediately.     Springing  to  his  feet  in  frantic 
despair,  the  San  Franciscan  hunter  threw  his  arms 
wildly  aloft,  and  uttered  one  loud,  long,  terrific,  un- 
earthly yell,  such  as  an  able-bodied  Irish  banshee 
might  have  given  on  a  particularly  rough  night,  when 
a  particularly  bad  scion  of  a  particularly  noble  house 
was  passing  in  his  checks  at  the  termination  of  a 
particularly  long  and  infamous  life.     The  effect  was 
instantaneous    and  striking.      The    foremost   bear, 
startled  out  of  his  seven  senses  by  the  yell,  sprang 
about  ten  feet — more  or  less — into  the  air,  knocked 
his  nearest  companion  off  her  pins  as  he  came  down, 
rolled  over  her,  gathered  himself  up,  and   bolted 
"like  forty  cartloads  of  rock  going  down  a  chute" 
straight  for  the  chaparral  again,  his  companions  fol- 
lowing close  at  his  heels,  and  never  turning  to  see 
what  it  was  which  had  stampeded  them.     As  they 
went  bouncing  and  crashing  away  into  the  under- 
growth, our  friend,  utterly  oblivious  from  the  first 
that  he  had  a  Q-^n  within  reach  of  his  arm,  turned 
and  ran  the  other  way  with  such  speed  as  Jack- 
son or  the  Deerslayer  never  achieved,  reaching  his 
hotel,  some  miles  from  the  spot,  with  his  garments 
soaked  with   perspiration,   hair  wildly    disheveled, 
and  eyes  almost  bursting  from  their  sockets,  only 
to   tell   the    marvelous  story    of  his  adventure  to 


THE  BEAR  FEVER.  gT 

a  party  of  practical  hunters,  who,  with  the  true  Cal- 
ifornia instinct,  scouted  the  entire  statement  as  "  too 
thin,"  affirmed  that  there  never  was  a  bear  seen  within 
ten  miles  of  there,  hinted  that  he  had  been  fright- 
ened by  a  drove  of  cattle,  winding  up  with  an  inti- 
mation that  he  had  doubtless  been  drinking  a  little 
too  freely  of  late,  and  if  he  did  not  want  to  have  an 
attack  of  the  "jim-jams"  he  had  better  switch  off 
right  then  and  there,  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  and  re- 
form his  vicious  not  to  say  criminal  habits  at  once 
and  forever.  Adding  insult  to  injury  was  literally 
boiled  down  in  this  case,  and  our  hero  of  "  the  three 
bars,"  as  he  was  derisively  termed,  went  to  his  bed 
that  night  in  a  frame  of  mind  easier  to  be  imagined 
than  described.  Next  morning  a  small  Spanish  boy 
— who  had  been  posted  in  advance  by  the  party — 
rode  out  on  a  mustang  to  the  scene  of  our  hero's 
misadventure,  brought  back  his  gun,  which  was 
found  lying  on  the  ground  just  where  he  had  left  it, 
and  on  being  closely  questioned  as  to  the  "  sign  " 
he  had  seen,  swore  by  all  the  saints  in  the  calendar 
that  there  was  nothing  there  save  a  few  fresh  hoe 
tracks.  This  last  straw  broke  the  camel's  back,  and 
our  Nimrod  packed  his  traps  and  started  for  San 
Francisco  by  the  morning  stage,  cursing  in  the 
bitterness  of  his  heart  the  whole  human  race,  and 
devoutly  praying  that  the  bears  which  the  hunters 
affected  to  disbelieve  in  the  very  existence  of  might 
catch  and  devour  them  all.  It  is  but  just  to  add  that 
the  bears  were  there,  and  the  hunters  knew  it  all  the 
time.  They  only  wanted  their  little  joke.  Every- 
thing had  occurred  just  as  he  had  stated  it,  and  in 

6 


32  PESCADERO    TO  SANTA    CRUZ. 

the  frenzy  of  his  terror  he  had  done  the  wisest  thing 
imaginable,  and  taken  in  fact  the  only  feasible  and 
proper  course  to  get  himself  well  out  of  a  bad 
scrape. 

My  hunter  friend  was  just  a  little  soured  in  spirit 
by  a  misadventure  of  his  own  that  morning.  In 
company  with  a  young  man  from  the  city,  who  came 
well  recommended  as  a  good  shot  and  energetic 
hunter,  he  had  started  out  at  daybreak  into  the 
mountains  in  search  of  deer.  They  were  going  up 
a  narrow  trail  along  the  bottom  of  a  thick-wooded 
canon,  when  a  deer,  startled  by  their  footsteps,  sprang 
up  within  ten  feet  of  them  and  darted  away  with 
tremendous  bounds  through  the  bushes.  The 
young  man,  startled  out  of  his  seven  senses  by  the 
sudden  appearance  of  the  deer,  had  been  seized 
with  the  "buck  fever,"  and  discharging  his  rifle  at 
random  without  the  slightest  idea  what  he  was  about, 
came  within  an  ace  of  blowing  his  companion's  head 
off.  For  this  he  had  received  a  blessing,  and  an 
intimation  that  thenceforth  their  paths  were  sepa- 
rated, and  the  more  widely  the  better. 

This  "  buck  fever  "  is  one  of  the  most  violent  dis- 
eases which  ever  attacked  the  human  system.  The 
story  of  the  Southern  planter  who  placed  his  negro 
servant  in  ambush,  and  then,  ordering  him  to  fire  the 
moment  he  got  a  fair  sight  at  the  deer,  drove  a  fine 
buck  directly  down  the  ravine  past  him,  is  familiar,  I 
presume,  to  most  of  my  readers.  As  the  buck 
dashed  past  him  the  negro  rose  to  his  feet,  when 
the  frightened  animal  made  a  tremendous  bound, 
clearing  a  clump  of   bushes  and  a  fallen  tree-top, 


HOW  JIM  WHEELER  KILLED    THE  BUCK.       go 

and  was  out  of  sight  in  an  instant.  "  Why  in  thunder 
didn't  you  fire,  Sam,  as  I  told  you  ?"  "  Fire,  massa  ? 
Gully  mighty,  massa,  I  didn't  tink  'twas  any  use ! 
He  jump  so  almighty  high,  I  was  done  gone  sure 
he'd  break  his  back  falling,  massa!"  was  the  trem- 
bling darkey's  quick-witted  reply. 

I  once  knew  a  man  out  in  Illinois  named  Wheeler. 
He  had  been  engaged  in  farming  on  Fox  River  for 
years  and  never  fired  a  gun.  But  one  winter  when 
a  light  snow  covered  the  ground,  he  heard  the  boys 
talking  so  much  about  the  fun  they  were  having  at 
deer-huntinof  that  his  ambition  became  excited,  and 
he  determined  to  borrow  a  gun  and  start  out  him- 
self. He  did  so.  That  night  he  came  back  with  a 
magnificent  buck,  shot  square  in  the  middle  of  the 
forehead.  Wheeler  said  little  about  his  achievement, 
but  got  the  credit  of  being  a  crack  shot,  which  he 
enjoyed  for  years.  But  on  an  evil  day  he  visited 
the  village  of  St.  Charles,  on  the  occasion  of  the 
visit  of  a  circus  to  the  place,  and  getting  unusually 
full  of  ginger-pop  and  such  mild  stimulants,  in  an 
unguarded  moment  let  out  the  secret  and  blasted 
that  glorious  reputation  in  an  instant.  He  had  seen 
a  doe  drinking  out  of  a  creek  at  the  foot  of  a  bluff 
some  twenty  feet  in  height,  and  in  the  wild  excite- 
ment of  the  moment  eot  the  rifle  to  his  shoulder, 
shut  his  eyes,  set  his  teeth  like  a  child  in  a  fit,  and 
pulled  trigger.  To  his  utter  astonishment  he  saw 
the  doe  bound  away  untouched,  and  at  the  same 
nstant  a  glorious  buck  pitched  headlong  from  the 
top  of  the  bluff  into  the  creek,  shot  dead  as  a  door 
nail  by  a  bullet  through  the  head.     The  buck  had 


84 


PESCADERO    TO  SANTA    CRUZ. 


been  looking  down  on  the  doe,  and  Wheeler  had 
never  seen  him  at  all.  That  let  him  out  as  a  deer- 
huntist. 

It  is  not  absolutely  necessary  that  the  game  in 
sight  should  be  a  buck  or  doe,  to  give  a  green 
hunter  the  "  buck  fever."  Prairie-chickens  suddenly 
starting  up  around  a  man  for  the  first  time  will  not 
unfrequently  produce  a  severe  attack.  I  remember 
with  a  tender  regard  my  old  hunting  friend  and 
companion  of  other  days,  Len  Huegunin,  of  Chicago, 
one  of  the  gamest  sportsmen  I  have  ever  known. 
He  shot  his  left  arm  off  gunning  for  ducks  in  the 
Calumet  Marshes,  but  his  right  never  forgot  its 
cunning,  and  years  thereafter  he  was  one  of  the 
crack  shots  of  the  Garden  City.  One  day  Len  was 
persuaded  against  his  better  judgment  to  go  out  on 
the  prairie  and  initiate  a  green  Bostonian  in  the 
mysteries  of  prairie-chicken  shooting.  When  the 
dog  took  up  the  scent  of  the  first  covey,  Len  fol- 
lowed upon  one  side  of  an  Osage  orange  hedge  and 
his  companion  on  the  other.  The  chickens  were 
concealed  in  the  grass  on  the  Bostonian's  side  of 
the  hedge,  and  in  an  instant  they  were  all  off  at  once, 
flying,  bur-r-r-r-r-r-r,  bur-r-r-r-r-r,  bur-r-r-r-r-r-r,  up 
from  around  his  feet  and  skurrying  off  right  and 
left  in  all  directions.  Without  the  remotest  idea  of 
what  he  was  doing  or  wanted  to  do,  the  startled 
Bostonian  fired  both  barrels  into  the  air  at  random, 
and  with  one  of  them  bored  a  hole  about  the  size  of 
a  saw  log  through  the  hedge  and  perforated  old 
Len's  coat,  vest,  and  pants,  to  say  nothing  of  his 
hide,  with  about  ten  thousand — more  or  less — No.  7. 


CHICKEN-PIE  AND  BUCKSHOT. 


85 


Now  Len  was  a  man  of  few  words  but  prompt  action. 
As  quick  as  a  flash  his  gun  was  at  his  shoulder,  and 
bang,  bang,  it  went  in  less  time  than  I  can  write 
it.  The  Bostonian  jumped  about  three  feet  high  as 
each  barrel  was  discharged,  and  yelled,  as  soon  as 
he  could  get  breath,  "  Why,  confound  you  !  what  the 
d — 1  are  you  doing?  You  have  peppered  me  all 
over  with  shot,  and  hang  me  if  I  don't  believe  you 
meant  it !  If  I  had  some  buckshot  here,  blame  me 
if  I  wouldn't  give  you  a  dose,  if  that  is  your  little 
game !"  Len's  reply  came  quick  from  between 
teeth  set  hard  on  a  wire  cartridge,  the  mate  to  which 
he  was  jamming  down  into  the  gun,  which  he  held 
upright  between  his  knees,  having  but  one  hand  to 
work  with.  "Well,  d — n  you,  that  is  my  game,  and 
if  you  are  on  it,  the  quicker  you  get  about  it  the 
better !  I'm  loading  with  buckshot  cartridges  al- 
ready /"  The  timely  arrival  of  a  mutual  friend  saved 
the  Bostonian  from  a  dose  of  "BB";  but  Len  had 
enough  of  that  chicken-pie,  and  went  home  at  once 
full  of  wrath  and  small  shot,  the  most  disgusted  inan 
on  the  continent  of  America.  To  this  day — if  Len 
is  still  in  the  land  of  the  living — you  have  but  to 
ask  Len  to  go  out  with  a  green  Bostonian  on  a 
chicken-hunt,  to  get  up  a  first-class  fight  on  the 
instant.  Len  was  three  weeks  at  work  with  his 
fingers,  a  jack-knife,  and  a  pair  of  tweezers  digging 
out  those  shot,  swearing  a  blue  streak  all  the  time, 
and  the  Bostonian  went  home  with  his  body  so  full 
of  lead  that  he  never  dared  take  a  swimming  bath 
from  that  day  forth. 

It  is  a  painful  fact,  but  a  fact  nevertheless,  that 


86  PESCADERO    TO  SANTA    CRUZ. 

hunters  will  lie,  occasionally ;  I  have  hunted  some- 
what myself,  and  I  know  it.  Old  S.  used  to 
keep  a  hotel  and  drive  stage  on  the  San  Mateo  and 
Pescadero  road.  He  had  hunted  more  or  less  all 
his  life.  One  day  he  was  telling  a  party  of  tourists 
about  a  big  deer-hunt  he  had  a  few  years  before. 
Warming  up  with  his  subject,  he  pointed  out  with 
his  whip  a  steep  bluff  on  the  hill-side  above  them, 
and  thus  concluded  his  narration :  "  Well,  you  see, 
gents,  I  had  just  got  down  in  that  little  canon  there, 
when  I  seen  a  deer  standing  right  by  that  big  red- 
wood, and  went  for  him.  I  didn't  see  but  one  deer 
when  I  fired,  but  that  deer  just  gin  one  leap  and 
come  crashing  down  inter  the  bush  thar  as  dead  as 
a  door  nail,  and  blast  my  pictur'  ef  three  more  didn't 
come  jumpin'  over  arter  him,  each  one  shot  so  dead 
that  he  never  kicked.  That  was  jest  the  strongest 
shootin'  gun  you  ever  seed  in  yer  lives,  gentlemen. 
I  never  seed  its  ekal,  and  I've  seen  some  in  my  time,  I 
kin  tell  yer  !  But  the  curiousest  thing  about  it  was, 
that  the  fust  deer  I  fired  at  was  shot  right  through  the 
side  of  the  head,  jest  above  the  eye,  and  through  the 
off  hind  foot,  jest  above  the  huff.  Fact,  gentlemen  /" 
"  Throueh  the  hind  hoof  and  head  at  the  same  shot ! 
— how  the  deuce  could  that  be?"  exclaimed  one  pas- 
senger. "  Look  here,  S.,  don't  you  think  that  is 
drawine  it  a  little  strong? — four  deer  at  one  shot,  and 
only  saw  one  of  them  !"  said  another.  "  Well,  as 
fur  the  bullet  going  through  the  hind  foot  and  head 
at  the  same  time,  yer  see  he  was  jest  scratchin'  his 
ear  with  the  huff  when  I  fired.  That's  easy  enuff 
counted  fur ;  but  the  hittin'  of  four  on  'em  one  after 


LOGIC,   AND  ANATOMY 


$7 


another,  that  always  did  puzzle  me  a  leetle;  howsum- 
ever,  I'll  take  my  afTadavy  it's  a  fact,  and  what  is 
more,  there  s  the  hill  right  in  front  on  yer,  gentlemen, 
and  yer  can  see  it  fur  yerselves !  There  ain't  no 
gettiii  over  that,  gentlemen  /"  This  logic  silenced  the 
doubters,  and  S.  remained  master  of  the  situation. 
The  similarity  of  the  experience  of  S.  and  Wheeler 
in  some  particulars  may  strike  the  hypercritical 
reader :  only  another  proof  that  history  has  a  tend- 
ency toward  repeating  itself  in  all  ages  and  coun- 
tries ;  nothing  more,  upon  my  honor. 

These  and  many  similar  anecdotes  we  exchanged, 
my  hunter  friend  and  I,  while  Chirimoya  amused 
himself  munching  the  dry  grass  which  grew  in 
scattered  tufts  among  the  bushes,  and  from  time 
to  time  varied  the  entertainment  a  trifle  by  essaying 
the  feat  of  kicking  a  fly  off  the  top  of  his  rump  with 
his  hind  feet, — a  thing  which  cannot  be  done  suc- 
cessfully. I  have  studied  equine  anatomy  thor- 
oughly, and  have  done  my  best,  laboring  long  and 
earnestly  with  a  club,  to  convince  that  noble  brute 
that  the  thing  is  a  physical  impossibility ;  but  it  is 
all  of  no  use  ;  he  will  persist  in  trying  it,  I  suppose, 
and  setting  all  my  counsel  and  instruction  at  naught, 
until  he  disjoints  his  back,  turns  himself  inside  out- 
wards, or  is  promoted  to  a  position  in  the  shafts  of 
a  sand-cart,  where  he  cannot  lift  his  heels.  The 
perversity  of  men  and  Spanish  horses  is  something 
beyond  my  comprehension. 

Speaking  of  hitting  flies  reminds  me  of  a  trifling 
incident,  occurring  about  the  commencement  of  our 
late  civil  war,  on  the  Rio  Grande.     I  saw  an  old, 


gg  PESCADERO    TO  SANTA    CRUZ. 

one-eyed  Mexican  vaquero  hitting  flies,  one  by  one 
with  a  long  rawhide  whip,  as  they  crawled  up  the 
side  of  a  wall,  and  took  occasion  to  compliment  him 
on  his  dexterity.  His  broad  sombrero  was  off  in  a 
moment,  and  with  many  low  bows  and  protestatory 
shrugs  and  gestures  he  replied,  in  good  Castilian, 
substantially  as  follows : 

"Yes,  your  Excellency,  I  have  made  it  the  study 
of  my  life,  and  have  achieved  some  small  measure 
of  success  in  my  efforts,  as  you  do  me  the  infinite 
honor  to  remark.  I  can  now  hit  a  fly  and  knock  him 
off  the  side  of  a  mule  without  disturbing  the  mule,  or 
I  can  hit  the  mule  and  knock  him  out  from  under  the 
fly  without  disturbing  the  fly.  I  am  quite  at  your 
Excellency's  service;  which  will  you  do  me  the 
honor  to  order  me  to  do  ?" 

I  ordered  him  to  go  and  take  a  drink,  and  he 
demonstrated  the  soundness  of  my  judgment  and 
his  title  to  my  confidence  by  going  and  doing  so 
without  further  parley.  To  the' credit  of  the  Spanish 
Americans  I  will  say  that  my  confidence  has  seldom 
been  abused  by  them,  or  proved  to  have  been  mis- 
placed. I  wish  I  could  say  as  much  for  some  of 
my  own  countrymen  ! 

This  part  of  the  coast  of  San  Mateo  and  Santa 
Cruz  is  subject  to  periodical  visitations  of  various 
kinds  of  fish,  some  of  which  are  almost  unaccount- 
able and  very  peculiar  indeed.  The  baracouta,  a 
species  of  sea-pickerel  greatly  valued  by  the  Italian 
and  French  cooks  for  soup  and  chowder,  sometimes 
swarms  in  the  waters  close  in  shore,  and  is  taken  by 
cartloads.     At    other    times    the    shore    is   literally 


GATHERING  HORSE-MACKEREL.  89 

covered  with  "  horse-mackerel,"  and  the  whole  popu- 
lation turns  out  to  enjoy  the  sport  of  gathering  them 
in.  It  has  never  been  my  good  fortune  to  witness 
one  of  these  grand  fish-battles,  but  I  find  one  de- 
scribed as  follows  in  the  Santa  Cruz  Sentinel. 

"We  reached  the  fishing-grounds  about  twilight, 
— here  the  pen  fails  to  do  justice  to  the  scene.     It 
was  low  tide ;  the  sea  here  forms  a  continuous,  al- 
most level    beach,  five  or  six    miles    long,  and  an 
average  width  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  at  low 
tide,  with  a  hard,  smooth  bottom,  and  not  a  pebble 
nor  a  sea-weed  visible  the  whole  distance  ;  probably 
there  is  no  nicer  nor  finer  drive  in  the  State  for  the 
same    distance :    the    ever  -  changeable    bluff  some 
one  hundred  feet  in  height,  all  the  estuaries  filled  in 
with  drift-wood,  accumulating  for  years.     Now  im- 
agine some  four  hundred  people  arriving  between 
twilight   and    dark,   the    fine    carriages,   the    omni- 
buses, two-horse  teams,  four-horse  teams,  six-horse 
teams,  ox  teams,  carts  and   California  go-carts,  all 
filled  with  persons  who  have  the  highest  expecta- 
tion of  making  a  big  haul.     The  high  piles  of  dry 
drift-wood,  set  ablaze  for  the  distance  of  five  miles, 
the  moon  shining  with  brightest  rays  on  the  silver 
sand  and  phosphorescent  water.     Men,  women,  and 
children    taking  their  positions  at  equal  distances, 
awaiting  the  coming  of  the  fish,  which  occurs  when 
the  tide  is  on  the  point  of  coming  in.     The  theory 
of  the  fish  coming  ashore  I  imagine  is  something  like__ 
this :    the    bay,  at   present,  is   full   of  a    small   fish 
similar  to  anchovies,  the  natural  food  of  the  mack-, 
erel,  which,  being  a  very  voracious  fish,  follows  the 


go  PESCADERO    TO  SANTA    CRUZ. 

anchovy  into  the  breakers,  when,  the  incoming  tide 
being  stronger  than  the  fish  is  used  to,  it  deposits 
him  through  the  breakers,  often  casting  great  num- 
bers of  them  high  and  dry,  but  most  generally  de- 
positing them  just  through  the  breakers,  into  from 
three  to  six  inches  of  water,  which  causes  them  to 
flounder  and  squirm  to  regain  their  element ;  then 
the  real  sport  commences,  men  and  boys  roll  up 
their  trowsers,  ladies  tie  their  dresses  around  their 
waists,  and  also  pitch  in  to  secure  the  prizes  ;  when 
the  fish  flounders  he  is  both  seen  and  heard,  as  he 
makes  a  great  commotion;  the  cry  is  given,  'There 
he  goes  !'  when  all  those  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood make  for  the  hapless  wight.  Then  look  out 
for  collisions  ;  but  here  woman  gets  her  rights  ;  she 
has  as  eood  a  ri^ht  to  the  fish  as  her  would-be 
superior,  especially  if  she  catches  fish  herself.  But 
to  cut  a  long  story  short,  five  of  us  caught  over  five 
hundredweight,  and  got  home  by  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  Horse-mackerel  is  considered  a  very 
earne  and  edible  dish." 

The  afternoon  was  far  advanced  when  I  bade 
adieu  to  my  hunter  friend,  took  a  parting  drink  from 
his  canteen,  rode  down  the  hill  into  the  open  country 
bordering  on  the  Bay  of  Monterey,  and  saw  the 
grand  panorama  of  the  Valley  of  Santa  Cruz,  and 
the  shores  of  the  historic  bay,  with  the  deep,  dark, 
wooded  mountains,  with  majestic  old  Loma  Prieta 
towering  high  above  them  all  in  the  background, 
unfold  itself  before  me  in  beauty  to  which  tongue  or 
pen  can  do  no  justice. 


CHAPTER    V. 

SANTA    CRUZ    AND    ITS    SURROUNDINGS. 

The  Bay  of  Santa  Cruz  and  its  Surroundings. — The  Natural  Bridge. — Mussel 
Men,  their  Dangers  and  Delights. — Adventure  with  a  Sea-Lion. — Un- 
invited Guest  at  a  Picnic. — An  Embarcadero. — Sea-Bathing. — Big  Trees 
of  Santa  Cruz. — Caves. — Mountain  Rides. — Supposed  Ruins. — Up  the 
Valley  of  the  San  Lorenzo. — The  Mountain  Honeysuckle  and  Madrono. — 
Over  the  Mountains  Again. — The  Redwood. — And  what  a  Fall  was  there, 
my  Countrymen ! — How  they  Broke  Jail. — Down  the  Valley  of  Los  Gatos. 
— Strange  Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Streams  of  the  Coast  Range. — Out  of  the 
Wilderness. — An  Old  Friend's  Story. 

From  the  bold  rocky  shore  of  the  Bay  of  Mon- 
terey to  the  westward  of  Santa  Cruz,  I  looked  upon 
a  scene  of  quiet  beauty  worthy  the  pencil  of  the 
ablest  painter,  that  warm  sunny  autumn  afternoon. 
The  bay  itself  was  calm  and  unruffled  by  breeze  or 
gale,  but  ever  and  anon  a  huge  ground-swell  roller 
came  stealing  silently  in,  as  if  to  catch  somebody  by 
surprise,  and,  failing  in  that,  burst  with  a  long  sullen 
roar  upon  the  jagged  limestone  cliffs  which  form  a 
barrier  to  the  encroachments  of  the  ocean  on  that 
side.  Beyond  the  broad  bay,  on  the  line  of  the 
southern  horizon,  rose  the  gray-,  and  purple-,  and 
mauve-tinted  mountains,  which  come  down  almost  to 
the  water's  edge,  and  at  the  foot  of  which  stands  the 
old,  historic,  picturesque,  and  half-decayed  Spanish 
city  of  Monterey,  the  ancient  capital  of  Alta  Cali- 

(90 


92 


SANTA    CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 


fornia.  Dana,  Derby,  Colton,  and  Herman  Mel- 
ville have  invested  die  shores  of  this  glorious  bay, 
and  that  famous  old  city,  with  a  romantic  charm  such 
as  few  localities  on  our  continent  can  boast.  South- 
eastward the  red  and  black  outlines  of  the  Gabilan 
Mountains  cut  against  the  rose-tinted  horizon. 
They  look  down  upon  the  broad  and  fertile  valley 
of  the  Salinas,  which  debouches  into  the  Bay  of 
Monterey  on  the  eastward ;  and  northward  of  the 
last,  due  east  or  nearly  so  from  where  I  stood, 
towers  the  great  peak  of  Loma  Prieta,  wrapped  to 
its  very  summit  in  a  dark  green  mantle  of  chemisal. 
The  Valley  of  Santa  Cruz,  dotted  with  white  houses 
embowered  in  green  shady  groves,  with  the  trim 
fresh-looking  little  city  of  the  Holy  Cross  nestled 
quietly  in  the  centre,  stretched  away  to  the  east- 
ward from  our  point  of  observation,  and  formed  the 
immediate  foreground  of  the  picture. 

I  met  a  party  of  acquaintances  coming  out  from 
the  city  to  visit  the  natural  bridge  of  Santa  Cruz, 
some  three  miles  from  the  town,  and,  turning  off 
with  them  from  the  main  road,  went  down  through 
the  fields  and  broad  meadows  a  mile  or  so  to  the 
shore  of  the  bay.  The  gray  limestone  which  here 
underlies  the  soil  at  every  point,  and  at  no  great 
depth,  crops  out  boldly  at  the  shore,  and  the  un- 
ceasing assaults  of  the  waves,  lasting  through  cen- 
turies on  centuries,  have  worn  it  into  a  thousand 
curious  and  fantastic  forms.  This  limestone  buttress 
is  at  this  point  from  fifty  to  one  hundred  feet  in 
height,  and  the  natural  bridge  is  out  at  its  very  edge, 
overlooking  the  Lay  and  ocean.     A  deep  gulley  or 


THE  NATURAL  BRIDGE. 


93 


chasm  in  the  mesa  or  table-land  runs  down  under 
the  outer  wall  of  this  rock,  without  cutting  through 
it  at  the  top ;  and  the  waves,  surging  and  whirling 
incessantly  in  and  out  at  the  bottom,  have  arched 
the  opening  beneath,  and  worn  it  into  the  exact 
shape  of  a  long  span  of  some  monster  stone  bridge 
builded  by  ambitious  human  hands.  On  either  side 
of  the  main  arch  are  two  long  narrow  spout-holes  or 
flumes,  running  through  the  abutments  or  piers  to  the 
sea,  and  through  these  the  flood  surges  in  and  out 
with  a  great  swash  and  roar,  with  every  rising  and 
falling  wave.  Brilliant-hued  pebbles  and  fragments 
of  rainbow-colored  abalone  shells,  worn  smooth  by 
attrition,  are  washed  back  and  forth  by  the  deep 
blue  waters  as  the  waves  roll  in  and  out,  and  beau- 
tiful feathery  mosses,  from  the  great  depths  of  the 
sea,  are  left  on  the  beach  by  every  falling  tide.  The 
upper  end  of  the  canon  is  sheltered  completely  from 
the  winds,  and,  being  dry  and  warm,  is  a  favorite 
resort  for  picnickers  and  the  lovers  of  roast  mussels 
and  clams,  who  find  fuel  in  abundance  scattered 
about,  and  can  gather  the  bivalves  by  bushels  or 
even  cartloads  here  all  the  year  round.  At  some 
seasons,  for  reasons  not  fully  understood,  the  mon- 
ster mussels  of  the  California  coast  become  poison- 
ous to  the  last  degree,  and  whole  parties  are  poisoned, 
sometimes  with  fatal  results,  from  eating  them,  nearly 
every  year.  They  are  of  a  beautiful  yellow  hue 
when  cooked,  as  rich  as  a  banana  fried  in  butter; 
and  I  know  old  mussel-fanciers  who  have  been 
poisoned  over  and  over  a  ain,  but  return  to  the 
charge  year  after  year,  preferring  the  chances  of 


94 


SANTA   CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 


being  killed  outright  in  the  end  to  abandoning  the 
consumption  of  their  favorite  delicacy. 

There  is  a  low  ragged  rock  just  off  shore,  but  a 
little  distance  from  the  natural  bridge,  which  is  a 
favorite  resort  for  the  sea-lions,  and  hundreds  of  the 
unwieldy  monsters  may  be  seen  disporting  them- 
selves there  at  almost  any  time.  A  few  years  since, 
a  party  from  San  Francisco  came  down  to  the 
natural  bridge  for  a  picnic,  and  while  the  men 
were  preparing  the  lunch  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
canon,  a  lady  of  the  party  strolled  down  to  the 
beach  under  the  main  arch.  The  tide  was  low,  and, 
as  she  went  down  by  the  water's  edge,  she  saw  lying 
alongside  the  abutment  of  the  bridge,  in  the  sun,  a 
monster  dead  sea-lion,  or  what  seemed  to  be  such. 
The  carcass  did  not  emit  any  offensive  smell,  and 
she  concluded  the  animal  had  just  been  shot.  Going 
up  to  it  without  fear,  she  stood  looking  at  it  for  some 
minutes,  and  finally  gave  it  a  vigorous  poke  with 
the  end  of  her  parasol.  In  an  instant  the  party  in 
the  canon  above  were  alarmed  by  wild  screams,  and 
the  lady,  half  frantic  with  terror,  came  running  up 
toward  them,  with  the  infuriated  monster  struggling 
after  her  and  uttering  hoarse  roars  of  ra^e  as  he 
vainly  sought  to  keep  up  with  her  in  her  hurried 
flight.  He  was  not  dead,  but  sleeping,  and  the  poke 
in  the  ribs  which  she  had  given  him  had  awakened 
him  and  infuriated  him  at  the  same  time.  The  men 
ran  down  to  meet  her,  and,  having  luckily  revolvers 
at  hand,  despatched  the  brute  with  repeated  shots. 
I  saw  his  body  lying  there,  and  measured  it ;  it  was 
fully  twelve  feet  in  length  from  tip  to  tip,  and  must 


AN  EMBARCADERO. 


95 


have  weighed  from  twelve  hundred  to  two  thousand 
pounds.  The  sea-lions,  or  lobos  de  marina  (wolf 
of  the  sea),  as  the  Spaniards  term  them,  have  the 
slowest  respiration  of  any  known  animal.  They  will 
sleep  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  for  half  to  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour,  then  rouse  themselves,  come  to 
the  surface  to  breathe,  play  around  for  a  few  minutes 
perhaps,  and  then  descend  for  another  nap.  When 
asleep  in  the  open  air  they  lie  as  motionless  as  if 
really  dead,  and  do  not  rouse  readily.  They  are 
therefore  readily  approached  at  such  times,  and  a 
stranger  to  their  habits,  seeing  no  sign  of  life,  would 
be  sure  to  be  led  into  the  error  of  our  lady  friend. 
On  being  suddenly  awakened  they  are  likely  to  dash 
indiscriminately  at  the  first  object  in  sight,  and, 
especially  when  their  young  are  in  danger,  they  will 
make  a  somewhat  determined  attack.  Though  pro- 
vided with  teeth  not  unlike  those  of  a  dog,  their 
offensive  capacities  are  not  of  a  very  high  order, 
and  their  attacks  on  human  enemies  are  seldom  if 
ever  attended  with  fatal,  or,  for  the  matter  of  that, 
very  serious  results. 

Leavine  the  natural  bridge,  we  rode  over  the 
arch  on  horseback — carriages  pass  over  it  without 
difficulty — and  visited  an  embarcadero,  half  a  mile  or 
less  farther  in  towards  Santa  Cruz.  This  embarca- 
dero is  a  mere  cleft  in  the  limestone  bluff,  the  sides 
of  which  are  worn  into  a  thousand  fantastic  forms 
by  the  waves.  The  water  inside  is  deep,  but  the 
heavy  ground-swell,  rolling  in  at  almost  all  times, 
tosses  the  vessels,  which  come  in  here  to  load  with 
lime  and  lumber,  about  like  so  many  footballs,  and 


9 6         SANTA   CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

the  danger  of  their  being  cracked  like  egg-shells  by 
being  thumped  against  the  projecting  rocks  is  always 
imminent.  The  vessels  load  from  chutes  running 
down  from  the  bluffs  above,  and  get  away  with  all 
possible  despatch.  Thousands  of  gulls,  shaugs, 
murres,  and  other  sea-birds  swarm  on  the  rocks  in 
these  sheltered  coves,  and  a  pistol-shot  will  send 
them  screaming  and  whirling  around  in  the  air  in 
clouds  in  a  moment. 

From  the  embarcadero  we  rode  back  through  the 
fields  to  the  highway  again,  and  thence  past  numer- 
ous tanneries  and  other  manufacturing  establish- 
ments to  the  once  fine  old  Mission  on  the  hill-side 
above  the  city,  now  half  modernized  by  a  shingle 
roof,  which  has  replaced  the  quaint  old  red  earthen 
tiles,  and  half  in  ruins,  and  from  thence  down  into 
the  pretty,  thriving  town  to  our  hotel,  where  a  relish- 
able  dinner  and  welcome  rest  awaited  us.  Towns, 
as  I  have  ascertained  by  somewhat  extended  obser- 
vation, are  generally  composed  to  a  very  great 
extent  of  houses,  and  inhabited  by  people.  Special 
descriptions  are  not  generally  interesting  to  the 
great  mass  of  intelligent  readers.  Santa  Cruz  is 
built  on  the  general  plan,  and  is  therefore  no  ex- 
ception to  the  rule.  It  looks  neat,  prosperous, 
thrifty,  clean,  and  not  unlike  any  well-to-do  manu- 
facturing and  farming  centre  in  New  England  or  the 
Middle  States,  with  California  flowers,  shade-  and 
fruit-trees  thrown  in  ad  lib.  The  ocean,  rivers, 
woods,  mountains,  were  not  made  with  hands,  and  I 
like  better  to  be  among-  them  and  write  of  them. 
We  will  sing  the  praises  of  Santa  Cruz  proper. 


SEA-BA  THING. 


97 


I  went  clown    to    the    beach   next  morning,  and 
found  it  not  unlike  other  sea-beaches.     It  is  a  mile 
or  two  miles  long,  with  a  bold,  rocky  headland  on 
the  westward,  another  marking  the  entrance  of  the 
San  Lorenzo,  a  famous  mountain  trout-stream,  to 
the  Bay  of  Monterey.     Near  the  mouth  of  the  San 
Lorenzo,  and  inside  of  the  bar  over  which  the  tide 
ebbs  and  flows,  is  the  favorite  resort  of  the  bathers. 
I  don't  like  salt  water  in  any  form, — in  fact,  am  not 
partial  to  water  of  any  kind ;  it  has  done  immense 
injury  to  my  family  in  days  gone  by,  and  came  near 
depriving  the  world,  at  an  early  day,  of  the  presence., 
and  services  of  your  humble  servant  himself.  (  The 
sea-bathing  had  no  great  attractions  for  me.     I  love 
woman  in  the  abstract,  and  admire  the  Greek  Slave 
and  the  Venus  de  Medici  as  works  of  art,  but  long 
observation  has  led  me  irresistibly  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  daughters  of  my  native  land — to  say  nothing 
of  the  mothers — will  not,  as  a  rule,  appear  to  advan- 
tage in  a  costume  approaching  the  severely  classic 
models  alluded  to.     Mary  Elizabeth  Jane  looks  well 
in  a  ball-room,  and  is  nice  company  at  a  picnic  or 
on  a  moonlight  ride ;  but  I  have  observed  with  pain 
that  M.  E.  J.,  clad  in  a  red  shirt,  pair  of  Shanghai 
trowsers,  and  a  flop  hat,  bobbing  up  and  down  in 
the  breakers,  loses  some  of  her  attractions.     I  have 
gazed  with  admiration  on  the  red  flamingo  dancing 
on  the  edge  of  a  quiet  lagoon  on  the  palm-fringed 
shores  of  Yucatan,  because  he  seemed  in  keeping 
with,  and  a  part  of,  the  perfect  picture.     Even  the 
gentle  blue  fly-up-the-creek  has  claims  to  considera- 
tion in  his  place  ;  but  M.  E.  J.,  dresse  .1  in  the  closest 

7 


9g  SANTA  CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

imitation  of  the  flamingo  and  the  fly-up-the-creek, 
and  running  before  the  wind  from  the  bathine-house 
to  the  water,  is  not  a  success, — I  say  it  with  sincere 
pain, — not  even  a  qualified  success,  nothing  like  one, 
in  fact.  Beloved  of  my  heart,  good-by  !  May  you 
be  happy  sporting  with  the  sea  and  the  crabs  and 
the  little  fishes  and  the  possible  sharks  and  the 
probable  blood-suckers  and  the  inevitable  sand-flies, 
in  your  flamingo  and  fly-up-the-creek  costume  ;  but 
as  for  me,  give  me  solitude  and  the  woods,  or  give 
me  death! 

What  glorious  places  for  picnicking,  and  what 
romantic  roads  and  bridle-paths,  abound  in  the 
vicinity  of  Santa  Cruz !  With  youth  and  some 
money  and  pleasant  company,  what  a  jolly  life  one 
could  lead  here  !  Ten  miles  to  the  northwest  of  the 
town,  up  in  the  foot-hills,  there  is  what  was  long  sup- 
posed to  be  the  ruin  of  a  mighty  temple,  like  unto 
those  of  Egypt  or  Elephanta.  There  are  two  rows 
of  columns  forty  feet  apart,  with  four  feet  space  be- 
tween the  columns,  and  looking  very  like  the  work 
of  human  hands, — very  like  indeed.  They  are  in- 
deed the  ruins  of  a  temple, — the  temple  of  Nature, 
and  the  columns  are  simply  those  which 

"  The  wizard  Time 
Hath  raised  to  count  his  ages  by." 

There  is  a  cave,  three  hundred  feet  in  length, 
some  three  miles  from  the  town,  and  four  miles  far- 
ther up  in  the  hills  a  mammoth-tree  grove,  wonderful 
to  look  upon  by  one  who  has  not  stood  among  the 
giants  of  Calaveras  and  Mariposa.     They  are  of  the 


MOUNTAIN  RIDES. 


99 


redwood  species,  as,  indeed,  are  all  the  "  Big  Trees 
of  California."  Is  it  not  strange  that  such  brittle 
timber  should  stand  erect  amid  the  tempests  and  the 
earthquakes,  through  all  the  weary  ages  of  historic 
time  ?  When  Abraham  fed  his  flocks  on  the  plains 
of  Asia,  the  present  giants  of  the  redwood  groves 
of  California  were  already  giants ;  and  when  the 
Saviour  of  mankind  bowed  his  head  in  death  upon 
the  cross,  and  all  nature  shuddered  while  darkness 
fell  upon  the  earth,  and  the  veil  of  the  temple  was 
rent,  they  stood  there  almost  as  they  stand  to-day, 
green  in  their  old  age,  and  seamed  and  scarred  by 
lightning  and  by  fire,  but  hale  and  vigorous  still. 

In  the  cool  hours  of  the  evening,  when  the  sun 
was  sinking  in  the  western  ocean,  and  long  shadows 
were  creeping  over  the  hill-sides,  with  a  loved  com- 
panion I  rode  up  the  winding  valley  of  the  San 
Lorenzo,  some  ten  miles,  to  the  California  Powder- 
Works.  These  woods  are  always  beautiful,  and  the 
ride,  in  summer  as  in  winter,  in  the  flush  and  bloom  of 
spring-time,  or  in  the  golden  glory  of  autumn,  along 
the  banks  of  the  swift-running  stream,  under  the  low- 
bending  evergreen  trees,  and  among  the  flowering 
shrubs,  always  a  delightful  one.  In  the  summer  the 
giant  mountain  honeysuckle — a  vine  which  grows 
into  tree-like  proportion,  twelve,  fifteen,  or  even 
twenty  feet  in  height — is  one  mass  of  creamy-white 
and  delicate  pink-hued,  trumpet-shaped  blossoms, 
whose  rich  delicate  odor  fills  all  the  air.  The  buckeye, 
blooming  on  every  hill-side,  gives  off  its  dense  sensu- 
ous odors  in  almost  overpowering  volume,  and  the 
wild  rose,  the  snowdrop,  and  a  thousand  nameless 


lOO      SANTA  CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

Howers,  mingle  their  perfume  with  that  of  the  peer- 
less madrono,  which  here  is  indeed  "a  thing  of 
beauty  and  a  joy  forever." 

The  powder-mills  are  located  in  a  secluded  glen 
among  the  hills,  and  a  neat,  thrifty  little  hamlet  has 
grown  up  around  them.  "  No  admittance"  is  posted 
on  every  door  of  the  thirty  or  more  broad-eaved, 
yellow-painted,  Swiss-farmhouse-styled  buildings  of 
the  Powder  Company.  Accidents  will  happen  here 
as  elsewhere ;  and  when  one  does  happen  the  people 
loitering  in  the  vicinity  at  the  moment  are  rendered, 
as  a  general  thing,  forever  unpresentable  in  fashion- 
able society.  This  thought  reconciles  us  to  the  pro- 
hibition, and  we  ride  away. 

A  few  years  since,  the  "oil  fever"  broke  out  with 
violence  all  over  California.  In  Santa  Barbara  and 
Los  Angeles  Counties,  where  the  fields  of  asphaltum 
or  "  brea"  cover  wide  districts,  and  at  the  surface  a 
refractory  kind  of  oil  exudes  and  runs  off  in  small 
quantities  in  many  localities,  wells  were  bored 
Heaven  knows  how  deep,  through  almost  every 
conceivable  substance, — natural  putty,  cement,  corn 
dodger,  cobble-stones,  old  cheese,  chalk,  ice  cream, 
molasses,  soft  soap,  hard  soap,  and  soapstone, — but 
never  a  smell  of  oil  came  to  the  surface,  though  a 
vein  of  burning-gas,  sufficient  in  volume  to  light  the 
city  of  Los  Angeles  had  it  been  saved  and  utilized, 
was  cut  into.  Here  in  quiet  Santa  Cruz  they  bored 
everything,  from  a  lime-rock  to  a  sand-bank,  in 
search  of  oil,  and  never  struck  it,  despite  the  predic- 
tions of  professional  geologists,  oil-wizards,  and 
rock-sharps  generally.     All  along  the  banks  of  the 


OVER    THE  MOUNTAINS  AGAIN.  IOI 

San  Lorenzo,  you  may  see  where  men  sunk  wells 
and  money  in  the  vain  search  for  oil. 

From  the  summit  of  a  low  hill  above  the  Valley  of 
the  San  Lorenzo  I  looked  down  for  the  last  time  on 
fair  Santa  Cruz,  embowered  in  shade-trees,  and  sur- 
rounded with  broad  grain-fields  and  quiet  farm- 
houses,— on  the  wide  blue  Bay  of  Monterey,  and  the 
Taurus  Mountains  beyond, — on  the  Pacific  flecked 
with  the  white  sails  of  ships, — and,  turning  my  face 
regretfully  homewards,  galloped  away  into  the 
mountains  northeastwardly,  towards  San  Jose.  The 
road  winds  up  the  mountains  gently  for  some  miles, 
then  more  abruptly,  and  we  presently  find  ourselves 
in  the  midst  of  dense  redwood  and  pine  forests,  and 
breathing  the  pure  resinous  air  of  the  mountain 
woods,  with  only  the  well-graded  road,  and  here  and 
there  a  rough  clearing-  to  remind  us  of  civilization 
and  our  fellow-man.  The  trees  where  the  lumber- 
man's axe  has  not  done  its  infamous  work  stand 
thickly  as  the  grain  in  a  field, — almost, — and  as  tall 
and  straight  in  proportion.  The  cedars  of  Lebanon 
were  beautiful  to  the  eyes  of  the  dwellers  in  arid 
Palestine,  but  they  were  and  are  but  stunted  dis- 
torted dwarfs  beside  the  redwoods  and  pines  of  Cali- 
fornia. As  we  ride  on  up  towards  the  summit  of  the 
Coast  Range,  we  look  down  from  time  to  time  into 
narrow  little  valleys  cleared  and  planted  with  vines 
and  fruit-trees,  and  see  neat  little  homesteads  sur- 
rounded with  happy  and  healthy-looking  children, 
and  all  the  evidences  of  modest  prosperity  and  con- 
tentment on  the  part  of  the  owners.  Then  we  give 
the    road  to  monster   ox-teams,  ten,   fifteen,   even 


I02       SANTA   CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

twenty  yokes  in  a  team,  drawing  huge  wagons 
hitched  one  behind  another,  like  the  cars  in  a  rail- 
road train,  laden  with  redwood  lumber  going  down 
to  the  bay  for  shipment  to  San  Francisco. 

This  redwood  lumber  has  some  valuable  proper- 
ties, with  others  of  the  opposite  character.  It  contains 
a  large  amount  of  iron,  and  no  pitch,  and  will  resist 
the  action  of  water  without  showing  a  sign  of  decay 
for  many  years.  It  will  receive  a  beautiful  finish, 
and  may  be  colored  and  varnished  to  resemble  rose- 
wood so  closely  that  the  eye  of  the  most  expert 
wood-worker  may  be  deceived.  It  shrinks  less  than 
pine  in  drying,  and  is  particularly  valuable,  there- 
fore, for  the  outside  of  houses  when  there  is  no  pres- 
sure upon  it.  But  on  the  other  hand  it  is  almost  as 
brittle  as  glass,  and  a  two-inch  plank  of  it,  resting 
on  the  ends,  will  not  support  the  weight  of  an  ordi- 
nary man.  It  splits  with  the  least  blow,  and  is  so 
soft  that  I  have  known  a  small  terrier  dog,  shut  up 
in  a  new  barn  built  of  it,  gnaw  a  hole  through  the 
side,  or  door,  and  make  his  escape  in  half  an  hour. 

Some  half-dozen  years  ago  a  curious  illustration 
of  the  unreliableness  of  redwood  occurred  in  San 
Francisco.  Workmen  were  engaged  in  putting  a 
new  asphaltum  roof  upon  the  three-story  brick  block 
on  the  southeastern  corner  of  Montgomery  and  Cali- 
fornia Streets,  and  a  drayman,  who  had  brought 
them  some  material,  stood  on  the  battlement  wall 
lookine  at  them.  Something  attracting  his  atten- 
tion,  he  stepped  backward,  and  to  the  horror  of  the 
spectators  cleared  the  wall  entirely,  and  fell  in  a  per- 
fectly upright  position  the  whole  height  of  the  build- 


WHAT  A  FALL   WAS  THERE!  10* 

ing  to  the  sidewalk  below.  The  crowd  rushed  to  see 
the  mangled  corpse  of  the  unfortunate  man  spread 
like  a  pancake  over  the  sidewalk,  but  to  their  utter 
astonishment  saw  only  a  round  hole  in  the  planking 
about  the  size  of  an  ordinary  flour-barrel.  Looking 
down  through  the  opening  into  the  cellar,  which  ex- 
tended out  under  the  sidewalk,  they  saw  him  pick 
himself  up,  walk  to  the  stairs  under  the  building,  and 
in  a  moment  more  emerge  as  sound  and  well  as 
ever,  not  a  bone  being  broken,  nor  even  a  severe 
contusion  received.  The  explanation  of  this  remark- 
able occurrence  was  simple.  A  part  of  the  side- 
walk was  of  tough  and  hard  Oregon  pine  plank,  and 
a  part  of  stone  or  brick  covered  with  asphaltum. 
Between  the  two  there  were  three  redwood  planks, 
and  he  had  struck  square  on  his  feet  on  the  centre 
one,  going  through  it  like  a  480-pound  shot  through 
the  roof  of  a  house.  Had  he  fallen  a  foot  and  a 
half  on  either  side  of  the  point  where  he  struck, 
he  would  not  have  lived  a  second. 

The  fact  and  the  party  are  both  well  known  in  San 
Francisco.  The  man  was  about  his  work  next  day 
as  usual,  and  is  so  to  the  present  time.  When  the 
bystanders  who  had  witnessed  the  terrible  fall  dis- 
covered that  nobody  was  hurt,  they,  Californian-like, 
began  to  make  all  sorts  of  jokes  concerning  the 
affair.  Had  the  man  been  killed  or  maimed,  a  purse 
for  the  benefit  of  his  family  would  almost  certainly 
have  been  made  up  for  him  on  the  spot.  As  he  was 
not,  it  was  a  fit  subject  for  fun  and  exaggeration. 
One  said  he  saw  him  straighten  himself  as  he  went 
down,  and  put  his  hands  down  on  his  thighs,  like  a 


io4 


SANTA    CRUZ  AND   ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 


man  diving  feet  foremost,  so  as  to  make  a  clean 
hole  in  whatever  was  below  him.  Another  declared 
that  when  he  came  out  of  the  cellar  he  swore 
roundly  that  he  would  bring  suit  against  the  city 
for  damages,  for  being  filled  with  redwood  slivers 
through  the  carelessness  of  its  superintendent  of 
streets  and  sidewalks  in  allowing  redwood  to  be 
put  down  instead  of  pine.  Another  still  declared 
that  as  he  fell  past  the  second  story  window  he  saw 
a  party  inside  playing  "pitch  seven  up,"  and  noticing 
that  the  dealer  was  "  turning  up  jack"  from  the  bot- 
tom of  the  deck,  called  out  threateningly  to  him, 
"  None  of  that,  now !"  The  writer  was  then  en- 
gaged on  the  Alia  California  newspaper,  and  inci- 
dentally published  these  various  statements,  intima- 
ting a  mild  doubt  as  to  the  entire  reliability  of  the 
last.  The  morning  paper  was  hardly  out  before  the 
champion  fallist  came  into  the  office  with  a  copy  in 
his  hand,  and  demanded  to  see  "the  man  who  put 
that  in  the  paper."  Your  humble  servant  was 
pointed  out  as  the  culprit,  and  he  immediately  de- 
manded my  authority  for  the  statement.  The  up- 
shot of  it  was  that  he  indignantly  denied  that  there 
was  a  word  of  truth  in  it,  and  demanded  a  retracta- 
tion. He  said,  most  emphatically,  that  he  saw  no- 
body playing  cards  as  he  went  past  the  window ;  in 
fact,  did  not  even  look  in  ;  and  that  had  he  seen 
anybody  playing,  as  had  been  stated,  he  would  not 
have  interfered  with  their  little  game,  as  it  was  none 
of  his  business  anyhow.  He  wanted  it  understood 
that  he  never  poked  his  nose  into  other  people's 
affairs,  and  thought  it  decidedly  hard  that  just  be- 


HOW  THEY  BROKE   JAIL.  105 

cause  he  happened  to  have  a  little  fall  of  forty  or 
fifty  feet,  people  should  represent  him  as  a  busy- 
body and  meddler  with  what  did  not  concern  him. 
With  as  much  gravity  as  I  could  command  I  wrote 
out  his  statement  almost  in  the  words  I  have  given, 
read  it  over  to  him,  received  his  thanks,  and  bowed 
him  out  of  the  room.  The  retractation  was  published 
and  he  was  satisfied. 

The  county  jail  at  Redwood  City,  San  Mateo 
County,  was  formerly — and  I  believe  still  is — built 
wholly  of  this  peculiarly  brittle  and  unreliable  wood. 
As  a  matter  of  course,  a  prisoner  who  could  com- 
mand an  ordinary  table-knife  never  tarried  long 
within  its  walls,  unless  afflicted  with  a  laziness  by 
no  means  characteristic  of  Californians.  One  night 
four  or  five  prisoners  who  had  been  there  for  some 
weeks  left  in  disgust,  and  the  writer  chronicled  the 
escape  for  a  San  Francisco  paper,  stating  incidentally 
that  it  was  understood  that  they  dug  their  way  out 
with  the  aid  of  a  table-spoon  and  tenpenny  nail. 
Some  days  later  an  indignant  denial  of  this  last 
proposition  was  received  from  the  skedaddlers,  dated 
at  Livermore  Pass,  Alameda  County,  then  a  favorite 
resort  for  desperate  characters.  They  protested 
that  they  were  not  jail-breakers  in  the  ordinary  ac- 
ceptation of  the  term,  but  unfortunate  victims  of 
untoward  circumstances.  Their  version  of  the  case 
was  this.  One  of  their  number  was  standing  upon 
one  foot,  drawing  the  boot  off  the  other,  when  he 
slipped,  and  falling  backward,  went  plump  through 
the  side  of  the  building,  landing  on  his  head  outside. 
Seeing  the  damap-e  which  had  been  done  uninten- 


I06       SANTA    CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

tionally,  and  supposing  that  they  would  have  to  pay 
for  the  same,  they  concluded  that  it  was  best  to 
"vamos  the  ranch,"  and  left  accordingly.  They  added 
that,  when  the  rainy  season  set  in,  and  sleeping  out- 
doors became  unpleasant,  they  would  return  to  jail, 
provided  the  county  would  agree  to  charge  them 
nothing  for  repairs,  and  see  that  the  place  was  made 
water-tight  and  comfortable.  Their  liberal  offer  was 
not  accepted,  and  when  last  heard  from  they  were 
still  in  the  hills,  rejoicing  in  poverty  and  virtuous 
liberty. 

The  stages  from  Santa  Clara  come  over  this 
mountain  road  daily,  at  break-neck  speed, — especi- 
ally on  the  down  grade, — and  the  drivers  make  it  a 
point  to  scare  the  uninitiated  tourists  half  out  of 
their  lives,  by  taking  apparently  unnecessary  risks 
at  the  most  dangerous  points.  At  the  summit  or 
near  it,  on  the  Santa  Cruz  or  ocean  side  of  the 
mountain,  there  is  a  long,  narrow  ridge,  or  "  hog- 
back," along  which  the  stage  road  runs.  The  view 
from  this  is  magnificent,  and  the  descent,  where  the 
road  winds  in  and  out  the  deep  canons,  turning  at 
sharp  angles,  the  stage  clinging  to  the  side  of  the 
precipice  like  a  squirrel  to  the  side  of  a  tree,  almost 
enough  to  take  one's  breath  away ;  sometimes  it  is 

o 

quite  enough.  Once,  not  many  years  ago,  a  parti- 
cularly ambitious  driver,  coming  down  this  descend- 
ing grade  at  railroad  speed,  "  missed  stays"  as  he 
essayed  to  turn  an  unusually  sharp  angle,  and  stage, 
team,  and  passengers  went  over.  I  don't  know  how 
many  hundred  feet  it  is  to  the  bottom  of  that  preci- 
pice, but  I  do  know  that  the  funeral  was  one  of  the 


THE  STREAMS  OF   THE   COAST  RANGE.       IOj 

most  extensive  and  select  ever  held  in  Santa  Cruz 
County,  and  everybody  admitted  that  the  under- 
taker's work  could  not  have  been  done  more  taste- 
fully, nor  could  the  minor  details  have  been  carried 
out  in  better  shape,  in  San  Francisco. 

From  the  summit  we  look  down  the  northeastern 
slope  of  the  mountains,  upon  the  wide  and  beautiful 
Valley  of  Santa  Clara,  and  the  blue  Bay  of  San 
Francisco  shimmering-  in  the  distance  through  the 
light  veil  of  autumnal  vapor  which  hangs  over  it, 
and  drapes  with  a  robe  of  royal  purple  the  Valley 
of  Alameda  and  the  mountain  heights  beyond. 

At  a  roadside  inn  just  below  the  summit,  we  find 
a  well-spread  table,  and  dine  sumptuously:  peaches 
and  cream — not  pale-blue  milkman's  milk,  such  as 
we  get  in  town,  but  real,  rich,  yellow,  old-fashioned 
cream  such  as  mother's  pantry  used  to  furnish  us 
years  ago — coming  in  for  the  dessert.  Another 
hour's  ride,  and  we  are  descending  the  Valley  of 
Los  Gatos,  whose  waters,  now  no  longer  the  home 
of  the  mountain  trout,  run  of  the  color  of  "  Old 
London  Port  at  twelve  dollars  per  dozen,"  the  hue 
being  imparted  by  the  redwood  sawdust  which  chokes 
its  course  in  drifts  and  bars  for  miles.  There  is  a 
curious  fact  in  connection  with  these  Coast  Range 
mountain  streams  of  California.  When  the  long, 
dry,  summer  days  come  on,  they  fail  almost  entirely, 
disappearing  in  places  for  miles,  then  perhaps  run- 
ning fresh  and  clear,  though  in  small  volume,  for  a 
short  distance  over  a  rocky  bed,  only  to  sink  from 
sight  again,  possibly  not  to  reappear  again  through 
all  the  course  of  the  stream  to  its  outlet  in  river,  sea, 


TOg       SANTA    CRUZ  AND   ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

or  bay.  But  when  the  days  begin  to  grow  shorter 
and  cooler,  and  the  nights  longer,  though  not  a  drop 
of  rain  has  fallen  for  months,  and  the  sky  is  still  un- 
clouded and  blue  as  sapphire,  the  waters  begin  to 
reappear  and  increase  in  volume,  and  long  before 
the  winter  rains  descend  the  streams  are  running 
half  bank  full  again.  The  secret  of  this  is,  that  the 
surface  evaporation  increases  with  the  length  of  the 
days  and  the  heat  of  the  sun,  and  diminishes  as  they 
diminish,  the  sources  of  supply,  far  in  the  deep,  shady 
recesses  of  the  mountains,  remaining  undiminished 
through  all  the  season. 

Another  hour's  ride  down  the  shady  road,  and  we 
emerge  into  the  open  Valley  of  Santa  Clara,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  a  week  the  familiar  whistle  of  the 
locomotive  falls  upon  our  ears.  Cool,  quiet  woods, 
lonely  sea-shore,  mountain  heights,  mementos  of 
Castilian  civilization,  and  best  of  all,  the  welcome 
rest  and  solitude  of  nature,  good-by !  Henceforth 
you  are  to  me  but  a  pleasant  dream  of  the  past. 

In  the  mountains  of  Santa  Cruz  I  met  an  old 
friend  whom  I  had  not  seen  before  for  years.  He 
was  crossing  the  mountains  like  myself  on  horse- 
back, and  would  gladly  bear  me  company  as  far  as 
the  western  border  of  the  Valley  of  Santa  Clara. 
What  had  he  been  doing  since  he  had  drifted  out  of 
my  sight  some  years  before  ?  As  we  rode  through 
the  forest  he  told  me  little  by  little  the  story  of  his 
later  life,  the  main  event  in  which  impressed  me 
deeply.  As  he  told  me  the  story  then  and  there,  I 
will  tell  it  now  to  you. 

''The  long,  hot  September  day  was  drawing  to  a 


MY  FRIEND'S   STORY. 


IO9 


close  at  last,  and  the  fierce  sun  of  the  desert  sinking 
down  on  the  horizon,  when  our  little  cavalcade 
wound  round  the  bend  in  the  trail,  and  we  sighted 
the  little  adobe  inclosure — half  fort,  half  corral — 
called  by  courtesy  '  The  Station,'  near  the  Picacho, 
on  the  old  overland  road,  between  Tucson  and  San 
Xavier  del  Bac,  in  southern  Arizona,  and  the  Pima 
villages  on  the  Gila. 

"  We  had  left  the  upper  valley  of  the  Rio  Grande 
too  early  in  the  season  by  a  month,  at  least ;  and 
our  trip  thus  far,  on  the  road  to  California,  had  been 
a  hard  one.  The  coarse,  dry  bunch-grass,  or  gaieta, 
never  abundant  on  this  route,  was  unusually  scarce 
that  summer ;  and,  as  we  were  forced  to  guard  our 
animals  night  and  day,  to  prevent  a  surprise  and 
capture  by  the  Apaches,  they  got  scarcely  enough 
of  it  to  keep  life  within  them.  We  were  hurrying 
on  as  rapidly  as  possible  for  the  Gila,  where  we 
could  purchase  corn-fodder  and  barley  from  the 
friendly  Indians,  and  proposed  to  camp  for  some 
time  and  recruit  our  worn-down  stock,  before  turn- 
ine  westward  toward  the  Colorado  and  the  Pacific 
Coast.  As  we  were  unpacking  that  evening  on  the 
Picacho,  I  missed  a  package  containing  a  valuable 
set  of  mathematical  and  drawing  instruments,  and 
some  important  papers,  which  I  could  not  afford  to 
lose.  They  had  been  put,  with  other  articles,  on  a 
pack-mule,  in  the  morning ;  but,  having  been  care- 
lessly corded,  had  worked  loose  and  fallen  off  on 
the  road,  without  being  noticed.  Finding  I  could 
borrow  a  fresh  horse  at  the  station,  I  determined  to 
ride  back  up  the  trail  in  the  cool  of  the  evening — 


IIO      SANTA    CRUZ  AND   ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

preferring  to  trust  the  chances  of  being  captured  by 
the  Apaches  to  losing  the  package.  The  night  was 
clear,  and  the  full  moon  lighted  up  the  landscape  so 
that  everything  of  any  size  for  miles  around  was  al- 
most as  distinctly  visible  as  at  midday.  I  had  ridden 
at  a  gallop  some  ten  or  twelve  miles,  when  I  saw 
the  package,  lying  beside  the  road,  under  a  scrub 
mesquite-tree,  which  had  raked  it  off,  as  the  mule  ran 
under  it.  Dismounting,  I  secured  the  package  upon 
the  back  of  my  saddle,  and,  having  tightened  the 
cinch,  was  just  mounting  again  for  the  return  to  the 
station,  when  my  horse  gave  a  loud  snort  and  jumped 
backward,  looking  up  the  road  toward  Tucson,  with 
staring  eyes,  nostrils  distended,  and  ears  pricked 
sharply  forward.  I  knew  what  this  meant  in  Apache 
Land,  and  was  on  his  back  in  an  instant,  and  out 
into  an  open  space  beyond  the  reach  of  arrows,  which 
might  be  shot  from  behind  any  shrub  or  rock.  Death 
haunts  your  steps,  day  and  night,  in  that  land  of 
blood ;  and  man  and  horse  acquire  habits  of  the 
most  intense  vigilance.  Looking  up  the  road  in  the 
direction  indicated,  I  saw  something  moving  along 
the  trail,  about  a  fourth  of  a  mile  distant,  which 
looked  like  a  small  boy.  Proper  caution  would  have 
prompted  me  to  turn  and  ride  straight  back  to  the 
station ;  but  just  then  I  remembered  that  we  had 
seen,  some  distance  back  upon  the  trail,  the  foot- 
prints of  a  human  being — apparently  those  of  a 
little  boy — in  the  dust  of  the  road  ;  and  noticed  that 
they  finally  left  the  track  and  turned  away  into  the 
chaparral.  There  were  no  other  footprints  with  them ; 
and  this  fact,  in  such  a  locality,  had  caused  us  to 


SHO  WING  HIMSELF  FRIEND L  Y.  m 


ft 
=»  in   rnnm'dprahle   snecul; 


indulge  in  considerable  speculation  and  conjecture 
as  to  who  had  made  them.  Remembering  all  this, 
my  curiosity  was  excited  ;  and,  after  a  few  moments' 
hesitation,  seeing  that  the  object,  whatever  it  was, 
had  stopped  and  crouched  down,  having  apparently 
noticed  me  just  then  for  the  first  time,  I  rode  cau- 
tiously up  the  road  toward  it.  I  had  reached  within 
ten  or  fifteen  rods  of  the  object,  when  it  sprang  up 
and  darted  into  the  chaparral,  and,  as  it  did  so,  I 
saw  what  appeared  to  be  a  young  Indian,  dressed  in 
Mexican  costume — loose  shirt  and  wide  pants  of 
cotton  goods,  and  a  broad  sombrero.  All  was  quiet 
for  a  moment,  and  then  I  called  out,  in  English, 
'  Who  is  there  ?'  There  came  no  response.  I  then 
repeated  the  question  in  Spanish.  A  little,  weak, 
frightened  voice  replied,  in  the  same  language,  this 
time, — 

'"Only  a  poor  Christiano,  senor!  And  you  are 
not  an  Apache?' 

"  'No;  I  am  a  friend,'  I  replied. 

" '  Thanks  be  to  God ;  I  am  saved !'  was  the 
devout  response;  and  the  little  fellow  ran  out  from 
his  hiding-place,  and,  coming  directly  up  to  me, 
seized  my  hand  and  covered  it  with  kisses,  praying 
and  uttering  thanks,  and  crying  hysterically,  all  at 
once. 

"  He  was  a  boy  of  apparently  twelve  or  thirteen 
years  of  age,  small  and  slender,  and  dressed  in 
clothes  much  too  laree  for  him.  It  took  me  some 
minutes  to  get  anything  like  a  connected  account 
of  his  troubles  from  him ;  but  I  finally  gathered  that 
he  had  been  on  his  way  from  Hermosillo,  in  Sonora, 


ll2       SANTA    CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

I 

to  Los  Angeles,  in  California,  with  a  party  of  Mexi- 
can friends,  consisting  of  a  man  and  his  wife,  another 
boy,  and  two  mozos.    They  had  turned  out  from  the 
road,  to  camp  where  there  wa«s  some  grass ;  and 
while  preparing  for  the  night,  they  had  been  jumped 
by  the  Apaches,  and  all  shot  down  but  himself.     He 
had  happened  to  be  a  few  yards  away  from  the  camp 
when  the  attack  was  made;  and,  concealing  himself, 
had  escaped  detection.     The  Apaches  had  only  re- 
mained at  the  camp,  after  committing  the  massacre, 
but  a  few  minutes,  being  evidently  afraid  of  having 
drawn  the  attention  of  some  stronger  party  by  the 
firing;  and,  after  scalping  their  victims,  rode  away 
in  haste  upon  the  captured  animals.     The  poor  boy 
had  wandered  away  from  the  road,  in  his  terror  and 
despair,  and  for  three  days  had  been  traveling  around 
at  random,  endeavoring  to  regain  the  trail,  or  dis- 
cover a  station  where  he  would  find  shelter  and 
protection.     Late  that  day  he  had  found  the  trail, 
and  followed  it  several  miles;  but,  becoming  faint 
and  exhausted  from  long  exposure  and  the  want  of 
food,  he  had  turned  out  to  lie  down  for  a  rest  under 
a  tree ;  and,  having  fallen  asleep,  had  missed  us  en- 
tirely as  we  passed  only  a  few  hundred  yards  from 
him.     He  had  found  water  once,  and  had  eaten  a 
few  mesquite  bean-pods,  which  had  fallen  in  his  way, 
thus  sustaining  life.     His  clothing  was  torn  to  shreds 
by  the  thorny  shrubs  through  which  he  had  passed  ; 
his  feet  were  swollen  from  long  walking  on  the  hot, 
dry  earth,  and  filled  with  cactus-spines ;  and,  between 
weariness,  hunger,  and  thirst,  he  was  so  nearly  dead 
that  it  is  doubtful  if  he  would  have  had  strength 


FRIENDLESS  AND  FORLORN. 


113 


enoueh  to  reach  the  station,  had  he  not  fallen  in 
with  me,  almost  by  a  miracle,  as  he  did. 

"I  always  loved  children,  though  I  had  none  of  my 
own  ;  and  my  heart's  warmest  sympathy  was  enlisted 
for  this  poor,  suffering  boy.  I  had  some  water  with 
me,  in  my  canteen,  and,  by  the  greatest  good  luck 
imaginable,  a  handful  of  dry  soda-crackers  in  my 
pocket, — the  remains  of  my  afternoon  lunch.  He 
swallowed  the  water  with  trembling  eagerness,  and 
munched  the  dry  crackers,  in  spite  of  his  sore  mouth, 
swollen  tongue,  and  bleeding  lips,  as  he  rode  back 
to  the  station  behind  me  on  my  horse,  telling  his 
story,  little  by  little,  as  he  could  collect  his  thoughts 
and  call  to  mind  the  incidents. 

"  He  was  a  half-orphan,  his  mother  having  died  a 
year  before  at  Hermosillo.  His  father  had  gone  to 
Alta  California,  three  years  before,  leaving  him  and 
his  mother  in  Sonora,  to  follow  him  when  his  cir- 
cumstances would  warrant  sending  for  them ;  and 
on  the  mother's  death,  he  had  written  for  the  boy  to 
come  with  the  first  party  of  friends  who  might  be 
going  over  the  road,  to  join  him  at  Los  Angeles. 
The  party  which  had  been  murdered  were  not  rela- 
tives, but  kind  friends  ;  and,  Spanish-like,  he  had 
become  so  attached  to  them  that  he  mourned  their 
fate  so  deeply  as  to  almost  forget  his  own  fearful 
peril,  and  helpless,  lonely  condition,  when  he  spoke 
of  it,  with  tears  coursing  down  his  sunburned,  blis- 
tered face,  and  sobs  and  sighs  choking  his  utterance. 
Before  we  reached  the  station,  I  had  already  come 
to  look  upon  him  as  my  peculiar  charge, — a  waif 
thrown  in  my  way  by  Providence,  which  I  was  bound 


H4      SANTA    CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

to  care  for  and  protect ;  and  the  idea  of  adopting 
him  into  my  family,  in  case  I  could  not  find  his  father 
at  Los  Angeles,  more  than  once  occurred  to  me. 

"All  my  traveling  companions,  save  one, — a  big, 
rough  brute,  known  as  Waco  Bill, — took  a  kindly 
interest  in  the  little  unfortunate,  and  consented  to 
my  adding  him  to  the  party.     That  night  we  suc- 
ceeded in  finding  him  a  pair  of  shoes,  which  would 
keep  his  bleeding  feet  from  the  sun  and  the  rough 
rocks  of  the  road,  and  a  blanket  to  wrap  around  his 
shoulders  when  traveling ;  and,  after  a  hearty  meal 
of  the  best  we  could  prepare  for  him  in  camp,  he 
fell  asleep.     I  had  a  large  black  dog — half-hound, 
half-mastiff — which  had  accompanied  us  on  the  trip, 
and  was  very  useful  in  watching  the  camp,  and  guard- 
ing us  against  surprise  by  the  Indians.     He  was  as 
savage  as  a  tiger,  and  could  scent  an  Apache  a  mile 
away.     Butcher  went  up  to  little  Manuel — the  boy's 
name  was  Manuel  de  la  Cruz — as  soon  as  I  brought 
him  into  camp,  and,  to  the  surprise  of  everybody, 
immediately  manifested  the  warmest  friendship  for 
him.    Thenceforth  the  boy  and  the  dog  were  almost 
inseparable  companions.     That  night  Manuel  slept 
near  me,  with  Butcher  lying  watchfully  at  his  feet ; 
and,  time  after  time,  the  little  fellow  would  start  up, 
suddenly  reach  out  his  hand  to  touch  me,  and  make 
sure  that  I  was  still  there,  then,  reassured,  curl  down 
again  under  his  ample  blanket,  and  close  his  eyes  in 
slumber.     Next  morning,  I  rigged  a  temporary  sad- 
dle for  my  protege,  and,  mounting  him  on  one  of  my 
pack-mules,  installed  him  as  a  member  of  the  ex- 
pedition, as  we  took  up  our  line  of  march  again  for 


MANUEL S  QUALIFICATIONS.  H- 

the  Gila.  Big  Waco  Bill  was  a  thorough  Texan  out- 
law, who  had  joined  our  party  more  because  none 
of  us  cared  to  insist  on  denying  him  permission  to 
do  so  than  because  any  of  us  really  wanted  him 
along.  He  despised  everything  Mexican,  and  fre- 
quently alluded  in  no  friendly  manner  to  '  that  d 

little  Greaser'  whom  I  had  picked  up  on  the  road 
and  was  taking  with  me  to  California.  Butcher, 
who  had  taken  so  kindly  to  Manuel,  had  hated  Bill 
from  the  start,  and  this  fact  served  still  more  to 
awaken  his  enmity  to  the  boy.  However,  we  got 
on  pretty  well  for  several  days.  Manuel — though, 
curiously  enough  for  a  Mexican  boy,  a  poor  rider, 
and  not  at  all  skilled  in  packing  horses,  lassoing 
mules,  or  similar  accomplishments,  on  which  his 
countrymen  generally  pride  themselves — showed  a 
genuine  anxiety  to  make  himself  useful :  he  was  a 
capital  cook,  ingeniously  adding  a  number  of  dishes 
hitherto  unknown  to  our  bill  of  fare  in  camp,  and 
with  a  needle  he  was  as  good  as  any  woman,  cheer- 
fully setting  himself  to  work  to  sew  on  buttons,  or 
patch  and  repair  our  tattered  clothing,  whenever  he 
had  a  moment's  leisure.  To  me  he  was  completely 
devoted,  and  there  was  nothing  he  would  not  try  to 
do,  if  I  asked  him.  On  the  other  hand,  he  seemed 
to  shrink  instinctively  from  the  presence  of  Bill,  and 
repaid  all  the  hatred  and  contempt  of  that  worthy 
with  interest,  in  his  own  quiet  way.  His  com- 
plexion, though  his  skin  was  scorched  and  burned 
by  exposure  to  the  savage  desert  sun,  was  much 
lighter  than  that  of  most  Mexicans  of  the  lower 
class,  and  his  features  indicated  pure  or  nearly  pure 


H6      SANTA    CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

Castilian  descent.      He  was  not  strong,  and  quite 
timid  and  nervous  ordinarily,  but,  in  presence  of 
actual    danger,    would   suddenly    develop   genuine 
pluck  and  courage  such  as  constitutes  the  hero  in 
life.     After  we  reached  the  Gila,  we  camped  near 
the  Pima  villages,  with  the  intention  of  remaining 
there  some  ten  days  or  two  weeks,  to  thoroughly 
recruit  our  animals.     One  day  I  had  been  out  with 
my  shot-gun  after  quail  and  rabbits,  leaving  Manuel 
and  Butcher  in  charge  of  the  camp,  and,  returning 
just  before  nightfall,  heard,  while  still  some  distance 
away,  a  noisy  altercation  going  on.     As  I  afterward 
learned,  Waco  Bill,  who  had  been  off  all  day,  had 
returned   late,  half  drunk,   and  in   a   quarrelsome 
mood.      On    coming   into    camp,    he   had    ordered 
Manuel  to  go  to  the  river  for  a  pail  of  water ;  and 
the  boy,  who  would  have  brought  it  instantly  had  I 
but  intimated  a  wish  for  him  to  do  so,  instead  of 
complying  with  the  command,  resented  it,  and  kept 
on  with  the  sewing  upon  my  clothing  at  which  he 
was  busy,  showing  only  by  the  flashing  of  his  large, 
lustrous,  dark  eyes,  and  the  quivering  of  his  red  lips 
over  his  snow-white  teeth,  that  he  had  heard  what  was 
said  to  him.     Bill,  infuriated  at  this,  ran  toward  the 
boy  to  seize  and  punish  him,  when  the  latter  sprang 
to  his  feet,  and,  catching  the   coffee-pot  from  the 
coals,  where  it  stood  simmering,  threw  it  full  at  him, 
a  portion  of  the  scalding  contents  striking  him  on 
the  arms,  the  breast  and  neck,  and  causing  him  fairly 
to  howl  with  rage  and  pain.    As  I  came  in  sight,  the 
boy  stood  a  few  yards  from  the  fire  with  the  butcher- 
knife,  which  we  used  for  cutting  bacon,  in  his  hand, 


A    CRITICAL    CONDITION  OF  THINGS. 


117 


prepared  to  defend  himself  to  the  death,  though 
trembling  from  head  to  foot  like  a  leaf  from  excite- 
ment, while  Bill  was  coming  out  of  the  tent  with  his 
big  Colt's  six-shooter  in  his  hand,  and  malice  which 
would  stop  nothing  short  of  murder  convulsing  his 
countenance.  Butcher,  the  dog,  as  if  comprehend- 
ing at  a  glance  the  condition  of  affairs,  dashed  for- 
ward at  Bill  as  he  came  out,  and  the  latter  stumbling 
over  him,  both  rolled  on  the  ground.  Bill  was  on 
his  feet  again  in  an  instant,  more  fairly  beside  him- 
self than  ever ;  but  I  had  by  this  time  reached  within 
striking-  distance,  and  seeing-  that  he  meant  mischief 
of  the  murderous  description,  without  a  moment's 
reflection  dealt  him  a  blow  with  my  full  strength 
with  the  butt  of  my  gun,  and  he  went  down  like  a 
bullock.  The  blow  took  effect  partly  on  his  neck, 
and,  though  it  brought  him  down,  it  did  not  disable 
him,  and  he,  still  holding  the  revolver  in  his  hand, 
almost  regained  his  feet  before  I  could  repeat  it. 
The  second  blow  broke  his  right  arm  near  the  elbow, 
causing  the  pistol  to  drop  from  his  now  powerless 
hand ;  and  at  the  same  moment  the  dog,  which  had 
made  several  savage  snaps  at  him,  fastened  his  teeth 
firmly  in  the  muscles  of  his  leg,  to  which  he  hung 
for  several  minutes  with  a  grip  like  a  vice,  before  I 
could  break  his  hold  and  release  the  now  helpless 
and  half-dead  bully. 

"  When  the  row  was  all  over,  and  Bill's  wounds 
dressed  as  well  as  possible  under  the  circumstances, 
quiet  settled  down  on  the  camp.  Then  Manuel 
came,  and,  crouching  down  on  the  ground  by  my 
side,  seized  my  hand  and  kissed  it,  and,  his  voice 


H8       SANTA    CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

half  choked  with  sobs,  exclaimed,  over  and  over 
again :  '  Oh,  my  father,  my  friend,  my  benefactor, 
why  did  not  the  Apaches  kill  me  before  I  brought 
this  trouble  upon  you  ?  I  would  have  died  for  you, 
— I  would,  in  truth, — and  here  I  have  put  your  life 
in  peril !  But,  father  of  my  heart,  don't  drive  me 
away  from  you  !  I  will  go  through  fire  to  serve 
you :  let  me  have  the  opportunity  to  prove  to  you 
my  devotion,  my  eternal  gratitude !' 

"  I  was  not  angry  with  the  boy :  how  could  I  be  ? 
I  told  him  so  again  and  again,  and,  having  quieted 
him  at  last,  went  and  consulted  with  my  partners 
on  the  situation.  They  agreed  with  me  that  it  was 
best  I  should  leave  the  party  and  push  on  to  Cali- 
fornia ahead.  Waco  Bill  was  disposed  of  for  the 
time  being,  but  he  might  recover  in  a  few  days  suf- 
ficiently to  do  me  mischief;  and  we  all  felt  sure  that 
it  was  in  his  nature  to  stop  at  nothing  in  the  way 
of  obtaining  revenge.  The  party  could  not  move 
on  for  some  two  weeks,  their  animals  being  far 
more  worn  down  than  mine ;  so  I  determined  to  go 
on  alone  next  day  with  Manuel,  and  trust  to  luck  to 
fall  in  with  another  party  on  the  trail  to  Fort  Yuma. 
It  was  a  risky  venture,  but  the  best  we  could  do 
under  the  circumstances.  We  were  off  bright  and 
early  next  morning.  As  soon  as  we  were  out  of 
sight  of  the  party  Manuel  gave  a  sigh  of  relief,  and 
asked,  with  affecting  earnestness,  « Will  you  always 
be  my  friend,  caption  V  He  asked  me  the  question 
a  hundred  times  in  the  course  of  our  journey  down 
the  Gila,  receiving  the  same  answer  every  time. 
Alone  with   me,  his    shyness,  which   had   been    so 


POLISH  AND  PROGRESS.  IIO_ 

marked  while  with  the  party,  disappeared  ;  his  spirits 
rose  day  by  day,  and  he  seemed  to  have  almost 
wholly  recovered  from  the  terrible  shock  caused  by 
the  butchery  of  his  friends.  I  had  found  some  cheap 
clothing  at  the  Pima  villages,  which  he  had  quickly 
razeed  to  fit  him  ;  and  with  this,  and  with  his  glossy 
black  hair — which,  when  I  found  him,  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  having  been  hacked  off  with  a  dull 
knife — neatly  cut,  his  appearance  had  changed  won- 
derfully. A  neater  little  figure  than  he  now  pre- 
sented you  would  have  to  go  far  to  see.  We  slept 
every  night  at  or  near  one  of  the  old  stage  stations, 
and  by  care  and  good-fortune  escaped  attack  by  the 
Apaches,  through  the  whole  trip  down  the  Gila  to 
Fort  Yuma.  At  the  latter  place  we  stopped  some 
days  to  rest  and  recruit,  and  wait  for  a  party  which 
was  bound  '  inside,'  like  ourselves. 

"  There  were  quite  a  number  of  Manuel's  country- 
men and  countrywomen  here,  but  he  seemed  to 
avoid  them  all  as  far  as  possible,  never  leaving  my 
company  for  a  moment,  if  he  could  help  it.  A 
priest,  who  happened  to  be  at  the  post,  was  to  say 
mass  there  on  Sunday ;  and  Manuel  told  me,  with 
satisfaction  beaming  on  his  countenance,  that  we 
could  now  say  our  prayers,  and  thank  God  and  the 
saints  for  our  escape  from  the  many  dangers  of  our 
journey.  He  looked  both  surprised  and  pained 
when  I  told  him  that  I  was  not  a  Catholic,  and 
could  not  join  him  in  his  devotions ;  but,  after  a 
moment,  remarked,  'Then,  with  your  permission, 
friend  of  my  heart,  I  will  pray  for  you  !'  and  I  am 
sure  that  he  did  so  with  the  earnestness  of  a  simple, 


I2o      SANTA    CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

trusting  soul,  and  a  faith  which  knew  no  shadow  of 
doubt. 

"  From  Fort  Yuma  to  the  settlements  near  Los 
Angeles,  our  journey  was  devoid  of  special  danger 
or  excitement,  as  we  were  out  of  the  hostile  Indian 
country  and  had  little  to  fear  from  horse-thieves 
even,  with  such  indifferent  stock  as  we  traveled  with. 
As  we  drew  near  our  journey's  end,  Manuel's  spirits 
began  to  sink  again,  and  I  saw  that  he  looked  upon 
the  fast-approaching  hour,  when  we  must  separate, 
with  sadness  and  apprehension.  As  we  rode  along 
he  talked  with  me  of  my  family  and  my  prospects 
in  life.  He  was  particularly  anxious  to  know  how 
he  could  always  be  certain  of  reaching  me,  or  hear- 
ing from  me.  When  I  gave  him  my  address, 
minutely  written  out,  he  immediately  sewed  it  into 
his  jacket,  so  that  it  could  not  work  out  and  be  lost, 
and  I  saw  him  pressing  his  hand  against  it,  over  and 
over  again,  to  be  sure  that  he  was  not  mistaken,  and 
had  it  safe.  He  would,  indeed,  like  to  go  to  the 
great  city  of  San  Francisco  with  me,  and  always  be 
my  son,  but  then  his  father  was  old,  and  would,  now 
that  his  mother  was  dead,  find  it  hard  to  part  with 
him ;  and  his  sister — of  whom  he  knew  little,  as  he 
had  not  seen  her  for  years — would  need  his  protec- 
tion. So  he  could  not  go  with  me  to  the  great  city, 
but  he  would  never  cease  to  pray  for  me,  and  if 
ever  I  needed  his  company  or  assistance,  he  would 
leave  father  and  sister,  and  all,  to  come  to  me :  I 
might  be  sure  of  that.  I  looked  down  into  his 
trusting,  tearful  eyes,  and  was  sure  of  it,  and  felt 
more  kindly  and  charitably  toward  all  the  world  for 


THE  DREAD   OF  SEPARATION.  I2I 

the  assurance.  On  the  last  day's  journey  toward 
Los  Angeles,  Manuel  hardly  talked  at  all.  His 
mind  seemed  to  be  filled  with  sad  thoughts  which 
his  tongue  could  not  utter. 

"  It  was  nightfall  when  we  came  in  sight  of  the 
'  City  of  the  Angels,'  and  I  realized  that  my  long 
journey  of  thousands  of  miles  on  horseback,  from 
Texas  to  the  shore  of  the  Pacific,  would  soon  be 
over,  and  I  should,  in  a  few  minutes  more,  be  in 
communication  with  home,  and  wife,  and  friends  in 
San  Francisco.  Just  then  Manuel  called  me  back 
to  the  rear  of  the  party,  and,  with  quivering  voice, 
told  me  that  I  must  not  think  hard  of  him  if  he  left 
me  immediately  on  arriving  in  Los  Angeles.  His 
father  had  not  seen  him  for  so  long  a  time  that  he 
was  in  duty  bound  to  seek  him  out  at  once.  As  he 
said  this  he  held  my  hand  with  an  eager,  trembling 
grasp  in  both  his  own,  and  looked  up,  with  a  long- 
ing, mournful  expression,  into  my  face.  I  under- 
stood and  respected  his  feeling.  He  wished  to  bid 
me  good-by,  then  and  there,  when  no  one  was  look- 
ing at  us.  I  bent  down  from  my  saddle,  and,  throw- 
ing his  arms  around  my  neck,  he  kissed  me  with 
passionate  energy  ;  then,  with  the  exclamation,  '  Oh, 
capitan,  capitan,  and  I  am  going  to  see  you  no 
more !'  released  me,  commenced  sobbing  convul- 
sively, stopped  it  with  a  strong  effort,  then  rode  for- 
ward and  rejoined  the  train,  without  another  word. 

"  I  had  no  sooner  arrived  in  Los  Angeles  than  I 
went  to  the  express -office  and  got  my  letters. 
Everything  was  going  wrong.  My  poor  wife, 
whose  health  had   been    declining  for   years,  was 


I22       SANTA    CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

growing  steadily  worse  ;  my  business  was  suffering 
from  neglect  and  the  need  of  money,  which  my 
partners  hoped  I  would  bring  from  Texas.  My 
trip  to  Texas  had  been  a  failure,  for  I  had  found  it 
impossible  to  sell  the  greater  portion  of  the  lands 
from  which  I  had  expected  to  realize  a  handsome 
sum,  and  what  money  I  had  obtained  had  nearly  all 
been  absorbed  in  paying  taxes  on  the  lands  unsold, 
and  the  expenses  of  the  trip.  The  steamer  would 
sail  from  San  Pedro  next  morning  for  San  Fran- 
cisco, and  I  determined  to  lose  no  time,  but  go  at 
once,  leaving  my  horses  to  be  sold  by  a  friend  as 
soon  as  they  had  so  far  recovered  from  the  effects 
of  the  trip  as  to  be  salable.  Manuel  had  disap- 
peared as  soon  as  we  arrived  at  the  hoteJ,  but  I 
felt  sure  he  would  come  around  in  good  time  in  the 
morning  to  bid  me  a  last  good-by.  Morning  came, 
but  no  Manuel.  No  one  had  seen  him  since  we 
rode  up  to  the  door  of  the  hotel. 

"  The  stage  for  San  Pedro  was  ready,  and  I  re- 
luctantly got  upon  the  box,  wondering  all  the  time 
why  Manuel  neither  came  nor  sent  me  any  word. 
The  hostler  from  the  stable  came  at  the  last  moment 
to  tell  me  that  the  dog  Butcher  was  also  missing. 
He  had  howled  and  acted  like  a  mad  creature  from 
the  moment  that  Manuel  left,  and,  some  time  during 
the  night,  had  gnawed  in  two  the  rope  by  which  he 
had  been  tied  in  the  stable  and  ran  away,  no  one 
knew  where.  They  thought  he  must  have  gone  to 
find  the  boy,  but  no  one  knew  the  family  of  De  la 
Cruz,  and  so  they  did  not  know  where  to  look  for 
him.     There  was  no  time  to  wait,  and  I  left,  feeling 


GRATEFUL  OR  UNGRATEFUL?  £23 

more  disappointed  than  I  cared  to  admit.  I  had  be- 
lieved that  Manuel  was  a  living  and  triumphant 
contradiction  of  the  vulgar  theory  that  gratitude 
has  no  place  in  the  Spanish  heart ;  and  yet  he  had 
deserted  me  at  the  first  opportunity,  when  there  was 
nothing  more  to  be  gained  from  my  friendship,  and 
had  even  seduced  my  faithful  dog  from  his  alle- 
giance to  me.  Reflection  would  suffice  to  dispel 
such  ideas  for  the  moment,  but  they  came  back 
again  and  again  with  redoubled  force,  and  at  last  I 
came  to  acquiesce  in  them,  and  doubt  that  such 
things  as  disinterested  friendship  and  real  gratitude 
were  to  be  found  on  earth. 

"  My  business,  by  patient  care  and  attention,  be- 
came prosperous  once  more  ;  but  my  dear  wife  grew 
daily  weaker  and  more  wan,  despite  all  that  loving 
kindness  could  do  for  her;  and  a  year  after  my 
return  I  stood  by  a  new-made  grave,  alone  in  the 
world,  still  under  the  middle  age,  a  childless,  down- 
cast, disappointed  man. 

"  Once  only  during  all  this  time  had  I  heard  from 
Manuel.  A  Spanish  lady,  well  advanced  in  years, 
— for  whose  children  I  had  once  used  my  influence 
with  some  success,  and  who  thereafter  always  re- 
garded me  both  as  a  friend  and  a  son, — returning 
from  Los  Angeles,  called  at  my  house  and  said  to 
me:  'Capitan,  I  met  the  sister  of  your  little  protege, 
Manuel,  at  Los  Angeles,  and  brought  you  a  mes- 
sage from  her.  She  is  very  grateful  to  you  for 
what  you  did  for  Manuel,  and  begs  you  to  accept 
a  little  gift  in  token  of  her  regard.'  In  the  package 
I  found  a  pair  of  fine  handkerchiefs,  delicately  and 


l2A       SANTA  CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

elaborately  embroidered,  and  bearing  the  initials, 
1  M.  De  la  C.,'  and  a  note  in  a  neat  little  hand,  but 
indifferent  English :  '  Don't  think  too  much  hardly 
of  your  little  Manuel,  who  will  never  forget  that 
you  were  his  friend  and  benefactor,  and  will  pray 
for  you  always.  He  did  not  wished  for  leave  you, 
and  some  time  you  will  know  why  he  did.  He 
would  not  if  he  could  help  it. — Manuela  de  la 
Cruz.' 

"  I  was  too  much  occupied  with  other  thoughts 
and  considerations  then  to  pay  much  attention  to 
this,  but  I  felt  ^lad  to  learn  that  Manuel  was  not 
ungrateful,  and  was  sorry — probably  ashamed — for 
having  left  me  so  abruptly. 

"  After  my  great  loss,  I  was  much  alone,  and  my 
mind  reverted  to  the  subject  many  times ;  and  the 
more  I  thought  of  it  the  more  satisfied  I  became 
that  there  was  some  mystery  at  the  bottom  of  the 
whole  affair  which  I  had  never  fathomed.  Two 
more  years  passed  away,  and  I  heard  no  more  of 
Manuel  and  his  sister.  I  drank  at  the  club,  gambled 
now  and  then  in  a  small  way  at  cards,  and,  in  short, 
tried — as  lonely,  disappointed  men  will  try — to  for- 
get the  past,  kill  time  in  the  present,  and  avoid 
thinking  of  the  future. 

"  One  day  I  was  out  riding  on  the  San  Bruno 
road,  in  company  with  a  friend.  We  had  both 
been  drinking  a  little,  but  only  enough  to  make  us 
feel  like  driving  a  trifle  more  recklessly  than  usual. 
As  we  were  coming  home  along  the  bay  beyond  the 
Seven-mile  House,  we  came  up  with  a  party  who 
had  also  a  fast  team,  and  a  trial  of  speed  ensued. 


FEVER,  AND  FANCY.  I2C 

Just  as  we  were  passing  them  we  rounded  a  sharp 
turn  in  the  road,  and  I  saw  another  team  comingf 
from  the  opposite  direction,  right  before  us,  not 
twenty  feet  off.  I  had  no  time  to  see  more.  When 
I  regained  consciousness,  I  was  lying  in  bed  in  my 
room  on  Stockton  Street,  in  San  Francisco,  my  leg 
broken,  three  ribs  fractured,  and  a  terrible  gash  in 
my  scalp,  which  extended  half-way  across  my  head. 
They  said  I  had  narrowly  missed  instant  death,  and 
it  might — probably  would — take  me  six  months  to 
recover.  As  good-fortune  would  have  it,  my  old 
Spanish  lady  friend  had  seen  me  brought  in,  and 
was  attending  me  assiduously. 

"Then  the  fever  came  on,  and  for  days  I  was  raving 
in  delirium,  or  tossing  in  distempered  sleep,  which 
brought  no  rest  or  relief.  One  day  I  was  lying  half 
asleep,  half  unconscious,  with  my  head  as  it  were  on 
fire,  and  my  ideas  all  distorted  and  confused  by  the 
fever-heat  which  ran  through  my  brain  like  molten 
metal,  when  I  felt,  or  fancied  I  felt,  a  cool,  soft  hand 
upon  my  burning  forehead,  and  the  touch  of  moist, 
velvety  lips  on  mine.  It  was  some  seconds  before  I 
was  fully  awakened  to  consciousness ;  and  then,  when 
I  turned  my  head  painfully  on  my  pillow,  I  saw  that 
there  was  no  one  else  in  the  room.  I  was  sure  that 
I  could  not  have  been  wholly  mistaken  ;  and  reach- 
ing the  bell,  I  rang  it  for  my  kind  volunteer  nurse, 
who  came  at  once. 

" '  There  was  somebody  else  in  this  room  a  mo- 
ment since  ?'  I  said,  with  a  positiveness  I  did  not 
wholly  feel,  but  with  a  determination  to  know  the 
truth. 


I26      SANTA   CRUZ  AND   ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

"  '  Yes,  capitan,  you  are  right !'  Then,  coming  to 
me,  she  took  my  hand,  and  said,  '  If  you  promise  me 
not  to  be  angry,  I  will  tell  you  something.' 

"  I  gave  the  promise. 

"  '  Well,  then,  I  have  taken  a  liberty.  Manuela, 
the  sister  of  the  boy  you  found  upon  the  desert,  has 
come  to  attend  upon  you,  now  that  you  are  in  trouble 
and  need  loving  care  and  assistance.' 

" '  But  I  never  saw  her  in  my  life !'  I  said. 

"  '  You  have  seen  her  brother,  and  been  his  friend  ; 
and  for  his  sake  she  is  devoted  to  you.' 

"  '  But  why  did  not  Manuel  come  ?'  I  asked. 

"  '  Their  father  died  recently  ;  and  he  was  detained 
at  home.' 

"  Hardly  knowing  what  I  did,  I  said,  '  Call  Manuela 
in,  then !' 

"  The  girl  came  in,  and  stood,  with  cheeks  suffused 
and  downcast  eyes,  quietly  by  my  bedside.  She  was 
taller  than  Manuel,  and  of  lighter  complexion,  but 
had  the  same  glorious  eyes  of  liquid  black,  the  same 
dark  hair  with  the  tinge  of  purple  when  the  sunlight 
rested  on  it,  the  same  bright,  expressive  counte- 
nance, and  quick,  graceful  movement  of  the  little 
taper  hands  when  speaking.  She  was  very  fair  to 
look  upon, — as  the  young  palm-tree  by  the  desert 
spring ;  and  there  was  goodness,  as  well  as  beauty, 
in  her  face. 

"From  that  day  I  began  to  mend.  Manuela 
stayed  with  my  nurse,  and  was  ever  at  my  bed- 
side, or  ready  to  come  at  my  call.  Neatness  and 
taste  were  in  all  she  did,  and  at  her  touch  all  things 
grew   beautiful.      She    practiced    reading   English 


A   DISAPPOINTMENT. 


127 


hour  after  hour,  every  day,  to  amuse  me,  profiting, 
at  the  same  time,  by  the  lessons.  Her  hand  pre- 
pared little  dulces  and  other  dishes  to  tempt  my 
slowly  returning  appetite.  Her  hand  arranged  the 
flowers  which  filled  my  room  with  fragrance ;  and 
her  hand  bathed  my  aching  brow,  and  arranged  my 
pillows  when  sleep  grew  heavy  upon  my  eyelids. 
You  can  guess  the  rest. 

"  When  I  was  able  to  sit  up  once  more,  and  to 
begin  to  bear  my  weight  upon  the  broken  limb  and 
move  about  the  room  with  the  aid  of  a  crutch  and 
the  chairs,  I  was  madly,  hopelessly  in  love — despite 
the  disparity  of  our  years — with  Manuela,  and  de- 
termined that  she  should  not  leave  me,  if  I  could 
prevent  it.  The  time  came  when  she  told  me  that 
she  must  go  home ;  that  I  did  not  need  her  care  and 
assistance  longer.  Then  I  poured  forth  all  which 
was  in  my  heart ;  told  her  that  I  should  always  need 
her  care  and  sympathy  and  assistance,  and  made 
her  the  offer  of  my  hand  and  heart,  in  all  good  faith 
and  sincerity,  confident  of  acceptance." 

"And  she  accepted  you,  of  course?" 

"  No ;  she  did  not.  She  broke  from  me,  with  a 
startled  look,  as  if  something  which  she  had  long 
dreaded  had  come  upon  her  at  last,  unexpectedly ; 
and  answered  me,  proudly,  but  sadly :  Love  me  ? 
Yes ;  she  could  love  me,  did  love  me,  would  always 
love  me.  She  was  proud  to  receive  a  true  man's 
love,  and  to  own  that  she  returned  it.  But  she  was 
an  orphan, — their  father  had  died  since  I  left  Manuel 
in  Los  Angeles  ;  poor ;  almost  uneducated,  and  lack- 
ing all  of  what  we  call  the  necessary  accomplish- 


128       SANTA   CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

ments.  She  could  not  do  me  credit  in  society ;  and 
would  not  risk  the  chance  of  seeing  me  regret  my 
folly,  and  feel  ashamed  of  my  hasty  choice.  She 
loved  me  too  much  to  make  me  miserable  for  life ; 
but  would  pray  for  me,  night  and  day,  as  the  dearest 
and  truest  friend  she  had  ever  found  on  earth,  and 
would  ask  me  to  continue  to  love  her  as  a  sister,  or 
daughter  (if  I  preferred  it),  and  believe  her  worthy 
of  my  affection.  She  had  come  to  prove  her  grati- 
tude to  me  and  do  her  duty,  not  to  entrap  me  into  a 
marriage  beneath  me ;  and  she  wished  me  to  be- 
lieve it. 

"All  this,  and  more,  she  told  me  ;  then  broke  down 
wholly,  and  wept  passionately,  rejecting  all  my 
attempts  to  comfort  her.  She  must,  and  would,  go 
at  once,  now  that  this  had  happened ;  and  she  left 
me — half  stunned,  bewildered,  and  utterly  downcast 
at  this  crushing  blow — to  make  the  arrangements 
for  her  journey  back  to  Los  Angeles. 

"  My  other  nurse  came  in  soon  after,  with  her 
eyes  full  of  tears ;  but  I  could  not  talk,  even  to  her, 
of  the  great  sorrow  which  had  come  upon  me ;  it 
was  too  sacred  for  others  than  Manuela  and  I  to 
speak  of,  even  though,  as  I  suspected,  she  knew  it 
all.  That  night  I  never  closed  my  eyes  in  sleep. 
I  formed  a  thousand  plans,  but  abandoned  each,  in 
turn,  as  impracticable,  feeling  that,  if  Manuela  had 
decided  on  her  course,  nothing  would  turn  her  from 
it.  Manuela  came  in  the  afternoon,  to  bid  me  good- 
by.  She  was  pale,  sad,  and  silent.  She  took  my 
hand  ;  and  I,  no  longer  able  to  suppress  my  emotion, 
turned  my  head  away,  in  speechless  agony.     She 


A   REVELATION.  l2g 

stood  a  moment,  irresolute,  and  then,  in  an  instant, 
a  wondrous  change  swept  over  her.  Her  arms 
were  around  my  neck,  her  head  was  upon  my 
bosom,  and  her  warm  tears  falling  thick  and  fast 
upon  my  hands.  When,  at  last,  she  looked  up  into 
my  face,  she  said  : 

" '  I  thought  that  I  was  doing  my  duty,  and  had 
the  strength  to  bear  it,  and  go  away  alone ;  but  I 
had  not.     I  cannot  part  with  you  again  !' 

"'Again?'  I  repeated,  inquiringly. 

"  'Yes, — my  true,  my  only  friend, — again  !  The 
first  time  was  at  Los  Angeles.  I  am  the  little 
Manuel  whom  you  found  on  the  Arizona  desert, 
and  cared  for  and  protected  at  the  risk  of  your  life. 
God  brought  us  together  then,  and  now  again,  for 
some  good  purpose ;  and  I  will  not  leave  you  more! 
You  know  all  now ;  and  I  will  be  your  loving  wife, 
to  honor  and  to  serve  you  always,  if  you  still  desire 
it!' 

"  She  said  this  with  trembling  eagerness.  In  truth 
I  wished  it.  Then  she  explained  how  she  had  come 
to  deceive  us  in  Arizona,  and  so  long  kept  up  the 
deception.  There  was  a  boy  in  the  party,  some- 
what older  than  herself, — she  was  fourteen  then, — 
and  when  the  Indians  charged  upon  the  camp  she 
was  sitting  in  the  shade,  a  little  distance  away,  mend- 
ing some  of  his  clothing.  When  she  realized  that 
her  companions  and  protectors  were  no  more,  and 
the  full  horror  of  her  situation  broke  upon  her  mind, 
instinct  told  her  that  her  chances  of  safety  would  be 
better  with  whoever  she  might  meet,  if  she  donned 
the  costume  of  the  other  sex, — which  she  lost  no  time 

Q 


!30       SANTA  CRUZ  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

in  doing.  When  we  reached  Los  Angeles,  she  hur- 
ried away  to  meet  her  father  before  the  secret  of 
her  sex  should  be  discovered  by  others,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  assuming  again  her  proper  costume,  with- 
out the  story  becoming  known  to  any  one  but  him. 
Meeting  our  mutual  friend, — my  old  Spanish  nurse, 
— she  had  confided  the  whole  story  to  her,  and  she 
had  kept  the  secret  well.     God  bless  her ! 

"  The  dog  Butcher  was  hunting  for  Manuel  for 
two  days,  and  recognized  Manuela  in  his  place  the 
moment  that  he  found  her.  He  was  with  her  still ; 
he  is  with  us  now.  That  is  his  1  ark, — the  noble  old 
fellow  !  This  is  my  ranch ;  that  is  our  house,  under 
the  madrono-trees  up  there  at  the  entrance  of  the 
canon  yonder  ;  and  that  is  Manuela — God  bless  her! 
— coming  down  to  the  gateway  to  meet  us,  with 
little  Manuel  and  Manuela  by  her  side.  I  tell  you 
what  it  is,  old  friend,  I  am  just  the  happiest  man  in 
all  California,  and  the  most  contented,  you  may  be- 
lieve me !" 

I  went  in  with  him,  and  there,  in  the  quiet  sum- 
mer evening,  when  the  whole  air  was  fragrant  with 
the  breath  of  flowers,  saw  him  sitting  beneath  his 
own  vine  and  fig-tree,  with  his  bright-eyed,  laughing 
children  on  his  knees ;  and  Manuela,  whose  fair  face 
was  radiant  with  love  and  pride,  leaning  trustingly 
on  his  shoulder,  as  one  who  knows  whence  comes 
the  strength  which,  through  all  trials,  shall  sustain 
her.     And  I  did  believe  him. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

IN    THE    STREETS    OF    SAN    FRANCISCO. 

Cosmopolitanism  of  San  Francisco. — Its  Street  Panoramas  and  Pictures  and 
Sounds. — An  Autumn  Morning. — The  "  Barbary  Coast." — The  Chinese 
Missionary. — Factory  Hands  on  Holiday. — Funeral  of  Ah  Sam. — A  Chi- 
nese Faction-fight. — An  Equestrian  Outfit. — The  Poundmaster's  Van. — 
General  Stampede :  its  Cause  and  its  Course. — The  Pine-apple  Plant. — 
The  Passers-by. 

Cosmopolitan,  in  the  fullest  acceptation  of  the 
term,  above  that  of  any  other  city  of  America,  per- 
haps of  the  world,  is  the  population  of  this  goodly 
city  of  San  Francisco,  the  metropolis  of  an  empire 
in  the  near  future,  of  the  wealth  and  grandeur  of 
which  we  of  to-day  have  hardly  yet  commenced  to 
dream.  Here  on  the  shore  of  the  blue,  illimitable 
Pacific,  the  human  tides  circling  around  the  globe 
from  east  and  west,  from  Europe  and  the  Atlantic 
slope  of  America,  from  Asia,  the  isles  of  the  ocean, 
Australia,  and  farthest  Africa,  meet  and  commingle 
with  a  deep,  incessant  roar,  even  as  the  waves  from 
the  shores  of  China,  Japan,  and  the  Spice  Islands 
meet  the  floods  from  the  Sacramento  and  the  San 
Joaquin,  at  her  Golden  Gate,  and  burst  in  thunder- 
ing surf  on  the  frowning:  rocks  of  Point  Lobos  and 
Point  Bonita. 

(13O 


r^?        IN  THE  STREETS   OF  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

One  may  wander  far  and  wide  over  the  earth 
without  finding  another  such  a  motley  crowd  as  that 
which  on  a  pleasant  evening  pours  in  a  living  stream 
through  Kearney  or  Montgomery  Street.  Natives 
of  the  soil  of  every  State  in  the  Union,  Englishmen, 
Irishmen,  Scotchmen,  Welshmen,  French,  Germans, 
Italians,  Greeks,  Russians,  Swedes,  Norwegians, 
Lapps,  Fins,  Portuguese,  Spaniards,  Mexicans, 
Panamenos,  Chilenos,  representatives  from  every 
Central  and  South  American  country,  Canadians, 
Chinese,  Japanese,  and  Kanakas,  abound;  and  here 
and  there  in  the  throng,  at  wider  intervals,  you  may 
at  times  see  the  supple,  silent  little  Lascar,  or  Hindoo, 
gliding  stealthily  and  serpent-like  through  the 
throno-  •  or  note  the  tall  turban  of  the  Parsee,  or 
Persian,  merchant,  who  is  waiting  for  the  steamer  of 
the  P.  M.  S.  S.  Co.  to  bear  him  back  to  the  shores 
of  Asia;  or  the  red  fez  of  the  Turk  or  Algerine,  as 
he  wanders  dreamily  along,  unconsciously  lending 
his  assistance  in  making  up  the  wonderful  panorama 
unrolling  itself  before  you. 

In  walking  two  bloc  s  you  may  hear  every  leading 
language  of  Europe,  Asia,  and  America  spoken,  and 
see  every  type  of  female  beauty,  from  the  blonde  of 
the  north  to  the  brunette  of  the  sunny  South,  the 
dull,  almond-eyed  daughter  of  the  Celestial  Empire 
to  the  olive-hued  senorita  with  eyes  of  liquid  flame, 
from  Andalusia  or  Tropical  America.  The  ever- 
changing  scene  is  always  one  of  interest,  and  often 
at  the  most  unexpected  moment  one  may  witness 
incidents  and  gaze  upon  sights  such  as  could  not  be 
observed  elsewhere  in  America. 


A   VISIT  TO   THE  "BARBARY  COAST."  ^3 

It  is  a  glorious  autumn  morning,  when  the  sum- 
mer trade-winds  have  spent  their  force  and  ceased 
for  the  season,  and  the  winter  rains  have  not  yet 
commenced :  Sunday,  and  the  whole  population  is 
abroad  on  the  streets  ;  churchward  bend  the  few;  in 
search  of  pleasure  the  many.  Passing  along  Stock- 
ton Street,  we  hear  the  strains  of  the  organ  and  the 
voices  of  the  choir,  in  the  Christian  temple,  mingling 
with  the  babel  of  many  tongues  on  the  street,  and 
the  rattle  and  roar  of  fireworks,  and  the  shrill  sounds 
of  the  gong,  in  the  courtyard  of  the  temple  of  Bud- 
dha or  Foh,  where  "the  heathen  in  his  blindness," 
etc.,  almost  under  its  very  eaves,  and  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  cross,  and  turn  down  towards  the 
"  Barbary  Coast,"  where  thieves,  murderers,  prosti- 
tutes, and  vagabonds  from  every  clime  beneath  the 
sun  meet  and  mingle  on  a  common  level,  and  vice, 
and  crime,  and  wretchedness,  and  moral  and  physi- 
cal degradation  unutterable  are  stamped  on  the  face 
of  every  denizen  of  the  evil  neighborhood,  marking 
him  or  her  as  an  outcast,  a  leper,  a  pariah,  among 
the  children  of  men. 

A  narrow  alley,  inclosed  by  high  brick  buildings 
cut  into  innumerable  small  tenements,  and  swarm- 
ing with  Chinese  men  and  women  of  the  lower 
class,  runs  through  the  centre  of  a  square  or  block, 
from  one  street  to  another.  This  alley  is  a  study 
for  the  student  of  humanity.  At  its  southern  en- 
trance a  dozen  or  twenty  persons,  all  Chinese,  male 
and  female,  are  gathered  around  a  box  upon  which 
stands  a  neatly-clad  Chinaman,  who  holds  an  open 
book  in  Chinese  characters  in  his  hand,  and  is  ex- 


j  34       IN  THE  STREETS   OF  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

pounding  the  story  of  the  Man  of  Sorrows,  and  the 
mystery  of  the  crucifixion,  the  resurrection,  and  the 
plan  of  salvation  to  the  listless,  indifferent  audience. 
His  manner  is  quiet  but  earnest,  and  to  us,  at  first, 
impressive ;  but  there  is  a  smile  of  mocking  incre- 
dulity, or  the  blank  look  of  utter  apathy,  on  the  face 
of  every  hearer,  and  we  find  ourselves  insensibly  fall- 
ing into  the  line  of  doubting  not  only  that  the  list- 
eners really  have  souls  to  be  saved,  but  even  that 
the  preacher  believes  that  they  have,  or  in  fact 
feels  within  himself  any  deep  and  abiding  interest  in 
the  question  one  way  or  the  other. 

Farther  down  the  alley,  a  party  of  Chinese  cigar- 
makers  and  factory-operatives,  on  holiday,  are  play- 
ing a  curious  game  of  shuttlecock,  catching  the  bat 
upon  their  heels,  knees,  elbows,  hands,  or  heads,  as 
it  may  chance,  and  keeping  it  bounding  into  the  air, 
and  from  one  player  to  another,  without  ever  stop- 
ping or  touching  the  ground,  for  half  an  hour  at  a 
time.  The  crowd  of  spectators  of  various  national- 
ities is  much  larger  here  than  around  the  preacher 
at  the  entrance  of  the  alley. 

But  down  at  the  lower  end  of  the  alley,  near  Jack- 
son Street,  the  largest  crowd  is  gathered  and  the 
greatest  interest  centres.  Elbowing  our  way  into 
the  circle  of  spectators,  we  manage  to  gain  a  view 
of  the  ceremonies  going  on  within.  In  the  middle 
of  the  alley  upon  low  trestles  stands  a  richly  mounted 
rosewood  coffin  ;  and  all  around  it  "joss  sticks,"  or 
little  colored  wax  candles,  and  sticks  of  incense, 
supported  by  slips  of  rattan  stuck  in  the  earth  or 
the  cracks  of  the  planking,  are  burning.     At  die 


'FUNERAL  BAKED  MEATS." 


135 


foot  of  the  coffin  stands  a  long  table  covered  with  a 
white  cloth,  and  literally  loaded  with  the  materials 
for  a  Chinese  feast.  At  the  head  of  the  table  is  a 
tall  pyramid  of  pink  and  white  rice-cakes,  choice 
fruits,  confectionery,  gold  tinsel  ornaments,  and 
flowers.  Next  comes  a  huge  platter,  upon  which 
rests  a  hog  roasted  whole,  and  fancifully  adorned, 
flanked  by  a  chicken  and  a  duck  fashioned,  with  a 
strange,  perverted  ingenuity,  into  the  semblance  of 
grotesque,  half-human  figures,  and  at  the  lower  end 
there  is  a  sheep  also  roasted  whole,  with  a  crown  of 
the  native  wool,  fancifully  cut  and  trimmed,  still 
adorning  the  head.  A  multitude  of  little  dishes, 
containing  sauces  and  condiments,  are  scattered 
over  the  table  as  adjuncts  to  this  feast  of  the  dead. 
A  tall  young  Chinaman,  who  is  either  priest  or  chief 
mourner, — we  are  in  doubt  which, — stands  by  the 
head  of  the  table  and  directs  the  ceremonies.  He 
is  clad  in  a  simple  narrow  robe  of  common  unbleached 
white  cotton  sheeting,  confined  at  the  waist  with  a 
girdle  of  the  same  material,  and  has  a  strip  of  the 
same  goods  bound  around  his  head.  Three  assist- 
ants, each  similarly  clad,  are  ranged  alongside  the 
coffin,  and  at  intervals  they  kneel  and  bring  their 
foreheads  down  to  the  dust,  wailing  forth  their  erief 
— real  or  simulated  :  the  latter  probably — in  unison, 
chanting  what  may  be  a  dirge,  or  a  prayer,  or  a 
hymn  of  praise,  in  the  highest  key  on  the  scale, 
while  a  band,  consisting  of  half  a  dozen  players  on 
the  Chinese  clarionet,  and  its  variations,  one-stringed 
fiddle,  and  the  indispensable,  inevitable,  clanging 
gong,  standing  around  the  head  of  the  coffin,  fill  the 


!^6        IN  THE  STREETS  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

air  with  wild,  barbarous  music,  in  which  the  average 
Caucasian  ear  fails  to  catch  even  the  faintest  under- 
strain  of  genuine  melody.  Chinese  women  with 
painted  faces,  silk  and  satin  garments,  and  lustrous 
blue-black  hair,  wonderfully  dressed  and  adorned, 
look  on  and  laugh  and  chatter  like  so  many  parrots. 
Chinese  artisans  in  holiday  costume  smoke  their 
cigars,  and  coolly  comment  on  the  ceremonies  and 
the  performers,  while  Americans,  Europeans,  and 
negroes  look  in  and  drop  out  of  the  crowd,  the 
scene  being  too  common  to  them  to  possess  more 
than  a  momentary  interest.  A  reporter,  note-book  in 
hand,  climbs  into  a  window  from  which  he  can  over- 
look the  crowd,  and  jots  down,  "  Funeral  of  Ah  Sam, 
boss  Chinese  cigar-maker,  China  Alley — died  of 
consumption,  induced  by  opium  smoking,"  jumps 
down,  and  is  off  in  search  of  something  more  sensa- 
tional; and  we  follow  him. 

The  Chinese  Theatre  fronts  on  Jackson  Street, 
nearly  opposite  the  alley  from  which  we  have  just 
emerged.  There  is  a  large  gathering  of  the  lower 
class  of  Chinamen,  all  in  dark-blue  clothing,  around 
the  outer  doors,  and  a  deep  excitement  pervades 
the  surging  mass.  There  is  some  trouble  between 
two  of  the  leading  Chinese  clans  or  companies, 
and  the  factions  have  met  before  the  theatre  by 
accident  or  design,  to  discuss  the  question  of  the 
day.  The  women  keep  away  from  the  crowd,  and 
a  number  of  well-dressed  Chinamen,  evidently  of 
the  mercantile  class,  stand  some  distance  away, 
watching  the  progress  of  events  with  evident 
anxiety.      Suddenly  the   tide    of   angry  discussion 


AN  EQ  UES TRIAN  O  UTFIT.  I  3  7 

rises  higher ;  harsh  voices,  pitched  to  their  highest 
key,  convey  epithets  of  infamous  import  back  and 
forth ;  there  is  a  rush  one  way,  and  a  scattering  in 
all  the  others,  and  a  lively  fight  has  commenced. 
We  see  hats  knocked  off,  catch  glimpses  of  steel 
bars  swung  into  the  air  above  the  heads  of  the  ex- 
cited mass,  see  here  and  there  the  glinting  of  short 
swords,  brandished  with  desperate  earnestness  of 
intent,  and  hear  the  low  thud,  thud,  thud,  of  the 
heavy  bars  falling  on  naked  scalps.  Then  a  pistol 
rings  out  sharp  and  clear  above  the  din,  and  there 
is  another  scattering  of  the  combatants,  just  as,  in 
answer  to  the  shrill  whistles  blown  long  and  loud 
by  outside  spectators,  the  police  arrive  on  the  run, 
and  knocking  right  and  left  with  their  heavy  lignum- 
vitae  clubs  and  the  butts  of  their  revolvers,  beat 
their  way  through  the  crowd  and  arrest  the  luckless 
devil  who  has  just  been  knocked  down,  beaten,  and 
shot  through  the  shoulder,  and  now  lies  bleeding 
and  helpless  on  the  sidewalk,  and  hurry  him  and 
the  witnesses  away  to  the  calaboose. 

As  the  officers  and  their  prisoner  hurry  along 
Kearney  Street  toward  the  City  Hall,  they  divide 
the  attention  of  the  crowds  on  the  sidewalks  for  the 
moment  with  a  slender,  black,  little  Mexican,  with 
a  thin,  sharp  face  and  long  moustache,  through 
which  his  white  teeth  show,  and  over  which  his  dark 
eyes  flash  with  a  peculiar  Mephistophelean  effect, 
attired  in  full  Spanish-American  costume,  broad 
sombrero,  short,  embroidered  jacket,  with  silver 
buttons,  wide,  slashed  buckskin  pants,  looped  up 
with    silver   lacings   at    the    sides,  and  long,  inlaid 


!38        IN  THE  STREETS  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

Spanish  spurs,  which  jingle  like  a  string  of  little 
bells,  riding  on  a  fiery  little  pinto  horse,  which  has 
the  artificial  pasedr  gait,  trotting  with  the  fore  legs 
and  galloping  with  the  hind  ones,  so  much  prized 
by  gay  caballeros  who  daily  ride  out  on  the  paseo  in 
his  native  city  of  the  Montezuma.  The  headstall  is 
of  fine  braided  hair,  and  consists  of  a  single  strap 
passing  from  the  bit  on  either  side  up  to  the  ears, 
where  it  is  split  to  pass  on  both  sides  of  those  organs, 
to  keep  it  from  slipping  off, — no  forehead-band,  curb- 
strap  or  throat-latch  being  used, — and  united  by  a 
broad  silver  button  at  the  top  of  the  head.  The 
terrible  Spanish  bit,  at  which  the  high-spirited  little 
steed  chafes  and  champs  incessantly  until  the  foam 
flies  right  and  left  from  his  quivering  mouth,  is 
plated  with  silver;  and  silver  chains  attach  it  to  the 
long,  braided  hair  rein,  terminating  in  a  whip,  which 
the  rider  whirls  carelessly  around  in  the  air  as  he  rides 
gayly  along  with  affected  indifference  to  the  sensa- 
tion he  is  creating.  The  high  pommel  of  the  Span- 
ish saddle  is  covered  with  silver;  the  long  tapaderos, 
which  cover  and  depend  from  the  stirrups,  are 
tipped  with  the  same  metal,  and  the  whole  saddle  is 
elaborately  embossed  and  ornamented.  Behind  the 
crupper  is  an  embroidered  baquerillo,  with  sides  of 
llama  skin  with  long,  glossy,  black  wool  hanging  down 
almost  to  the  ground.  It  is  "  an  outfit"  which  would 
make  a  sensation  in  Hyde  Park  or  the  Central,  and 
always  attracts  the  admiring  attention  of  strangers 
as  it  passes  along  the  streets  of  San  Francisco. 

Early  on  a  week-day  morning  you  may  see  an- 
other   of    the    specialties    of   San    Francisco, — the 


DIRECT  TAXATION.  139 

poundmaster's  van  and  its  attendants, — a  van  with 
open  sides,  through  which  may  be  seen  the  heads 
of  luckless,  unlicensed  dogs  and  goats,  and  occa- 
sionally a  pet  pig  or  lamb,  drawn  by  two  horses 
driven  leisurely  along  by  a  fat  and  happy-looking 
assistant  dog-pelter,  by  whose  side  sits  a  Mexican 
or  native  Californian  half-Indian  vaqtiero,  with  his 
long,  rawhide  rieta  coiled  ready  for  instant  use  in 
his  hand.  Beside  the  van  rides  another  vaquero 
on  horseback  ready  for  the  chase ;  and  behind  rides, 
on  horseback,  a  policeman  with  star  and  baton  ex- 
posed, ready  to  arrest  anybody  guilty  of  interfering 
with  the  operations  of  the  dog  ordinance  of  the  city 
and  county  of  San  Francisco,  and  the  statutes  of 
the  State  "  in  such  cases  made  and  provided." 

As  the  van  jolts  along  over  the  rough  cobble 
pavement  the  imprisoned  canines  give  vent  to 
mournful  howls,  on  hearing  which  every  unlicensed 
but  "  posted"  dog  on  the  street  takes  to  his  heels 
and  flees  from  the  neighborhood  as  from  a  pesti- 
lence, while  the  licensed  cur,  with  the  tax-collector's 
tag  upon  his  collar,  comes  boldly  up  to  the  vehicle 
in  perfect  consciousness  of  security,  and  howls  defi- 
ance at  the  persecutors  of  his  race. 

A  Frenchwoman  of  no  uncertain  social  status  is 
passing  along  the  street  at  the  moment,  with  a  King 
Charles  spaniel  snugly  ensconced  in  her  arms  and  a 
sprightly  black-and-tan  running  along  by  her  side. 
There  is  no  tag  on  the  neck  of  either  dog,  a  fact 
which  the  poundmaster's  assistants  comprehend  at 
a  glance,  and  the  vaquero  on  the  driver's  seat  jumps 
down  on  the  instant  and  darts  toward  them.     The 


I  40        JN  THE  STREETS  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

woman  sees  the  peril  of  her  pets,  and  attempts  to 
catch  up  the  black-and-tan  also  in  her  arms ;  but  the 
rieta  comes  spinning  through  the  air,  and  the  fatal 
noose  is  around  his  neck  before  her  hand  has 
touched  him.  In  the  effort  to  grasp  him  as  he  is 
jerked  away  she  drops  the  spaniel  also,  and  in  the 
fraction  of  a  second  the  mounted  vaquero  whirls 
the  rieta  around  his  head  and  sends  it  straight  as 
an  arrow  at  the  little  fellow,  lassoes  him  at  the  first 
attempt,  and  lands  him  half  way  into  the  middle  of 
the  street  with  the  recoil  of  the  rieta,  as  a  boy 
would  land  a  perch  or  chub,  at  the  end  of  his  line, 
on  the  bank  of  a  stream.  There  is  a  wild  outcry 
on  the  part  of  the  woman,  an  indignant  appeal  for 
help  to  the  unsympathetic  bystanders,  a  tearful  and 
angry  dispute  with  the  smiling  driver  of  the  van, 
and  finally  the  excited  woman  pays  over  ten  dollars 
in  coin, — five  dollars  for  each  pet, — receives  a  mild 
caution  not  to  let  them  be  caught  a  second  time 
without  the  license-tag  on  their  collars,  and  moves 
hurriedly  away,  breathing  maledictions  long  and 
loud  upon  the  devoted  heads  of  the  poundkeeper 
and  all  his  assistants  and  the  makers  of  the  infa- 
mous laws,  which  thus  tear  the  heartstrings  out  of  a 
poor  woman  and  rob  her  of  her  hard-earned 
dollars. 

A  wilder  excitement,  something  more  peculiarly 
Californian,  and  as  such  more  keenly  enjoyed  by 
the  excitement-loving  San  Franciscans,  follows  close 
upon  the  last.  Shouts  of  warning,  the  fall  of  goods 
piled  up  in  front  of  Kearney  Street  stores  and 
shops,  the  banging  of  doors,  and  the  rattle  of  many 


COMBAT  AND    VICTORY.  j^j 

feet  upon  the  sidewalk,  announce  the  presence  of 
physical  danger  and  the  commencement  of  a  general 
stampede.  Out  of  Pacific  Street  into  Kearney,  with 
head  erect,  glaring  eyes,  and  nostrils  wide  distended 
with  rage,  terror  and  fatigue,  rushes  a  wild,  long- 
horned,  Spanish  steer,  which  has  broken  away  from 
a  drove  being  landed  at  North  Beach,  and,  Malay- 
like, is  running  a  muck  through  the  city,  to  the  immi- 
nent peril  of  life  and  limb  of  every  person  he  meets 
on  his  way.  The  frightened  and  infuriated  animal 
dashes  madly  at  every  living  object  which  attracts 
his  attention,  knocks  down  and  tramples  upon  sev- 
eral persons  not  fleet  enough  to  escape  him,  and  is 
only  prevented  from  goring  them  to  death  with  his 
long,  sharp  horns,  by  the  shouts  and  execrations 
of  his  pursuers,  two  swarthy,  Mexican  vaqueros, 
mounted  and  equipped  like  the  poundmaster's 
assistant,  who  are  all  the  time  close  upon  him,  en- 
deavoring to  head  him  off  and  turn  him  back  or 
capture  him  at  the  first  opportunity.  Dashing  full 
tilt  at  a  passing  vehicle,  the  steer  recoils  half-stunned 
from  the  shock,  and  in  an  instant  the  lasso,  hurled 
by  one  of  the  vaqueros,  is  around  his  head  under 
the  horns,  and  the  other  has  caught  him  in  a  similar 
manner  by  one  of  the  hind  legs.  One  of  the 
vaqueros,  with  a  deep-drawn  "  C-a-r-a-j-o !"  swings 
his  excited  pony-steed  sharply  half  around  in  one 
direction,  the  other  swings  his  in  the  opposite ;  there 
is  a  sharp  thud  as  each  rieta  straightens  like  a  bow- 
string, and  the  steer  goes  down  heavily  in  the  dust. 
He  struggles  madly  in  the  toils  for  an  instant,  but 
in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write  this,  or  to  read  it, 


lA2       IN  THE  STREETS  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

one  of  the  poundmaster's  assistants  is  by  his  side, 
throwing  his  rieta  around  him  in  every  direction,  as 
he  twists  and  turns,  until  his  limbs  are  securely 
bound  like  those  of  a  fly  in  the  web  of  a  spider,  and 
he  lies  panting,  bruised,  bleeding,  and  helpless  on 
the  pavement.  Such  scenes  as  this  are  now  less 
common  in  San  Francisco  than  a  few  years  since, 
but  they  may  still  be  witnessed  occasionally,  and 
add  something  to  the  charm  of  life  in  the  Golden 
City. 

In  a  window  on  Kearney  Street  a  pineapple  plant, 
in  full  bearing,  with  the  ripe,  luscious  fruit  in  per- 
fection upon  the  top,  is  on  exhibition  as  an  adver- 
tisement of  a  famous  suburban  garden  where  it  was 
raised  under  cover.  As  the  crowd  drifts  idly  along, 
one  and  another  turn  to  look  at  the  glory  of  the 
tropics  with  a  casual  remark.  A  party  of  young 
Spanish-American  girls  pause  longer,  and  speak  in 
low,  soft  tones  of  the  memories  called  up  by  it.  As 
they  too  turn  to  go,  a  yellow  negress,  from  Panama, 
Peru,  or  one  of  the  Spanish  West  India  Islands, 
clad  in  a  long,  loose  gown  of  gaudy-hued  calico, 
with  a  scarlet  handkerchief  of  rich  China  silk  bound 
around  her  head,  forming  a  turban,  and  loose,  slip- 
shod slippers  on  her  feet,  lazily  puffing  away  at  a 
cio-arrito  which  she  holds  daintily  between  her  thumb 
and  forefinger  of  the  left  hand,  waddles  up  before 
the  window  and  looks  in.  "A/i,  Dios  mio!  Dios  mio! 
Hijo  de  mi  pais!"  she  exclaims,  clapping  her  hands 
in  sudden  excitement,  every  trace  of  listless  in- 
difference gone  in  an  instant.  Pouring  forth  a 
volume  of   broken  English  and  provincial  Spanish 


"ONE   TOUCH  OF  NATURE."  l*<, 

by  turns,  she  looks  first  at  one  bystander  and  then 
at  another,  addressing  each  invariably  in  the  wrong 
tongue,  gesticulating  wildly  as  she  strives  to  express 
the  delight  which  fills  her  heart  at  this  sudden  re- 
calling of  the  memories  of  her  childhood,  and  the 
scenes  and  associations  which  surrounded  the  home 
of  her  youth.  "  One  touch  of  nature  makes  the  whole 
world  kin;"  the  prejudices  of  race  and  education  give 
way  before  it,  and  there  is  something  of  human 
sympathy  on  the  face  of  every  bystander  as  she 
moves  reluctantly  away,  turning  ever  and  anon  for 
another  glance  at  the  souvenir  of  her  native  land, 
which,  like  the  palm-tree  in  the  gardens  of  Paris  to 
the  desert  Arab,  long  wandering  from  his  home,  has 
become  to  her  an  object  of  adoration. 

Such,  in  brief,  are  some  of  the  scenes  which  one 
may  witness,  and  which  will  most  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  the  stranger,  in  a  morning's  ramble  through 
the  streets  of  San  Francisco. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

TAMALPAIS. 

Where  it  is  Situated. — Some  Speculation  as  to  the  Signification  of  the  Name 
and  its  Possible  Origin. — Our  Start  for  the  Mountain. — The  Trip  to  San 
Rafael  and  Adventures  by  the  Way. — Ascending  the  Mountain. — First 
Blood. — The  View  of  the  Bay  and  City  of  San  Francisco. — Mount  Diablo 
puts  in  an  Appearance. — At  the  Summit. — A  Bear-faced  Fraud. — Fine 
Study  of  a  Fog  Bank. — A  Faithless  Guide. — Wandering  in  the  Mist. 
— Out  of  the  Woods. — An  Afternoon's  Sport. — A  Painful  Subject. — 
Adios  Tamalpais  ! 

There  is  not  a  finer  mountain  for  its  height, — 
two  thousand  six  hundred  feet, — on  all  the  con- 
tinent of  America,  than  Tamalpais,  the  bold  abut- 
ment of  the  Coast  Range  on  the  northern  side  of 
the  Golden  Gate,  a  low  spur  of  which  runs  down 
into  the  Pacific  Ocean  and  forms  Point  Bonita 
(Beautiful  Point),  on  which  stands  the  lighthouse 
which  guides  the  mariner  into  the  entrance  of  the 
Bay  and  Harbor  of  San  Francisco.  The  origin  and 
signification  of  the  name  are  matters  of  doubt.  Mai 
pais  is  a  common  designation  for  rocky  barren 
ground,  in  all  Spanish -American  countries,  and 
Ta-mal-pais  may  be  a  corruption  of  that  term,  the 
unnecessary  primary  syllable  having  perhaps  been 
engrafted  upon  it  by  the  Indians  or  Russians  after 
the  Spanish  settlement  of  the  country.  Another 
suggestion — a  very  hazardous  one — as  to  its 
origin  is  as  follows.  There  is  a  dish,  toothsome, 
(144) 


it.  ' 


DERIVATION,  AND  APPEARANCE.  Izj_r 

and  dear  to  every  Spanish-American  epicure,  known 
as  tamals.  "  Tamal-pais"  may  possibly  mean  simply 
"tamal  country,"  or  as  we  would  say,  "the  country 
of  tamals"  from  somebody  having  in  early  days  pro- 
duced tamals  there.  Tamales — or  Tomales — Bay, 
lying  in  the  rear  of  Mount  Tamalpais,  on  the  ocean 
side,  helps  to  give  a  color  of  probability  to  this  pro- 
posed solution  of  the  question.  However  that  may 
be,  the  mountain  has  been  known  as  Tamalpais 
since  the  time  when  the  memory  of  man  runneth 
not  to  the  contrary,  and  it  may  be  after  all  merely 
an  Indian  name  signifying  nothing  at  all,  like  Ala- 
bama, Ohio,  and  Iowa.      Quien  sabe  f 

The  mountain  looks  well  from  any  point  of  view, 
in  summer  or  in  winter;  but  its  outlines  seem  boldest, 
and  the  dim  blue  haze,  which  envelops  it  always,  the 
softest  and  most  beautiful  I  think,  when  looked  upon 
from  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco,  or  the  heights  of 
Telegraph  or  Russian  Hill.  It  stands  in  Marin 
County,  or  rather  it  is  Marin  County ;  for  take  away 
Tamalpais,  and  what  is  left  of  Marin  County  would 
hardly  fill  a  wheelbarrow. 

We  'three — Dr.  Murphy,  the  eminent  physician 
of  San  Francisco,  Lloyd,  the  rising  young  criminal 
lawyer,  and  myself — had  looked  with  longing  eyes  in 
that  direction,  even  as  Moses  looked  toward  the 
Promised  Land,  for  months  and  years,  and  at  last 
the  longing  to  go  over  there  and  explore  the  mysteri- 
ous fastnesses  of  the  mountain  became  too  great  for 
further  repression.  We  knew  that  quail,  deer,  hare, 
and  rabbits  abounded  there,  that  deer  were  often 
killed  there,  that  California  lions  had  been  seen  there, 


146  TAMALPAIS. 

that  grizzly  bears  were  numerous  there  years  ago, 
and  as  one  was  never  known  to  die  of  his  own  voli- 
tion and  none  were  known  to  have  ever  been  killed 
there,  it  was  a  fair  inference  that  they  were  there 
still.  Were  we  not  all  mighty  hunters,  and  was  not 
that  a  field  in  which  to  display  talents  and  accom- 
plishments such  as  ours  ?  The  only  reflection  in 
connection  with  our  projected  trip,  which  gave  us 
uneasiness,  was  as  to  its  probable  effect  on  the  game 
market, — a  fall  in  prices  which  would  inevitably  ruin 
all  the  pothunters  in  the  State  and  all  the  wholesale 
game-dealers  in  San  Francisco  being  looked  upon 
as  a  foregone  conclusion.  We  were  duly  sorry  for 
it,  but  how  could  we  help  it  ? 

The  Doctor  is  an  ambitious  and  sanguinary  man, 
his  professional  experience  having  given  him  a  taste 
for  blood;  and  he  went  in  for  big  game.  I  don't 
think  he  would  have  discounted  the  proceeds  of  that 
foray  at  anything  less  than  a  grizzly,  a  pair  of  Cali- 
fornia lions,  half  a  dozen  wild-cats,  and  a  wagon  load 
of  deer ;  and  I  know  that  he  had  hopes  of  hare  and 
small  game  almost  without  limit.  He  was  armed 
with  a  Henry  rifle,  five  hundred  rounds  of  cartridges, 
and  a  butcher-knife  with  a  blade  sixteen  inches  in 
length.  Lloyd  took  a  No.  8  stub  and  twist  double- 
barrelled  gun, — which  by  rights  should  have  been 
mounted  on  a  swivel  in  a  boat,  or  on  a  raft, — two 
hundred  and  fifty  Ely's  wire  cartridges,  a  bag  of  B  B 
shot,  half  a  keg  of  powder, — he  hesitated  a  long 
time  as  to  whether  he  should  fill  up  the  keg,  but 
finally  concluded  that  in  case  he  run  out  he  could 
buy  more  at  San  Rafael, — and  an  army  size  Colt's 


OUR  START  FOR    THE  MOUNTAIN.  i^y 

revolver.  I,  who  am  of  a  more  modest  and  less 
ambitious  turn  of  mind,  took  along  only  a  light  No. 
14  double-barrelled  gun,  which  once  upon  a  time 
had  done  fearful  execution  at  both  ends  in  the  Great 
Winnebago  Swamp  in  Illinois,  a  flask  of  powder, 
one  of  shot,  and  a  bottle  or  two  of  California  wine, 
which  had  been  boiled  to  concentrate  the  strength 
and  save  freight.  Each  had  marked  out  a  particular 
line  of  destruction  for  himself  to  follow, — each  one 
equally  confident  of  achieving  a  mighty  triumph  in 
his  way.  The  pathway  of  our  life  is  strewn  with  the 
wrecks  of  fond  hopes  blighted  and  promises  unful- 
filled ;  it  pains  me  to  reflect  upon  the  harvest  of 
such  wrecks  which  my  most  intimate  friends  were 
called  upon  to  gather  on  that  ever  memorable  occa- 
sion. I  doubt  if  I  promised  less  than  one  thousand 
dozen  quail,  and  larger  game  in  proportion ;  but  I 
call  Heaven  to  witness  that  I  did  so  honestly,  and 
with  the  very  best  intentions  as  to  fulfilling  my  en- 
gagements. It  is  some  consolation  to  a  tax-payer 
to  feel  that  the  pavement  of  a  certain  nameless 
place  will  not  require  renewal  or  repair  for  many 
years  to  come. 

We  were  to  go  on  horseback,  starting  at  2  p.m. 
from  San  Francisco,  on  the  2d  of  September.  I 
rode  my  old  pet,  a  half-breed  mare,  Juanita,  which 
the  accursed,  sneaking  Chimahuepis  Indians  stole 
from  my  side  as  I  slept,  a  year  later,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Colorado  River.  Lloyd  bestrode  a  fiery,  un- 
tamed, mouse-colored  steed,  received  from  a  client 
subsequently  hanged, — he  shed  no  tears  over  his 
grave ;    and    the   Doctor  galloped  on  the  road  to 


148 


TAMALPAIS. 


glory  and  renown  on  a  livery  hack  warranted  to  be 
'just  lightning,"  and  better  able  to  make  good  the 
warranty  than  any  other  four-legged  brute  on  the  top 
of  the  earth,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief. 
From  the  plaza  to  the  boat-landing — about  half  a 
mile — the  journey  was  comparatively  uneventful,  the 
Doctor  having  merely  run  down  an  old  woman  at  the 
crossing  of  Battery  and  Washington  Streets,  while 
Lloyd's  horse,  having  collided  with  a  passing  vehicle, 
got  even  by  wheeling  suddenly  and  letting  fly  his 
heels  at  me  viciously,  one  hitting  the  saddle  and 
nearly  knocking  me  out  of  it,  the  other  making  a 
deep  indentation  in  the  barrel  of  my  gun  and  send- 
ing it  flying  some  ten  feet  out  of  my  hand.  I  killed 
nobody  myself.  We  disembarked  in  safety  at  San 
Ouentin;  many  of  Lloyd's  clients  had  done  the  same 
in  years  gone  by, — the  State  Prison  is  located  half 
a  mile  from  that  landing. 

Here  the  trouble  began.  The  Doctor,  by  reason 
of  his  greater  age  and  presumably  riper  judgment 
and  greater  discretion,  was  entrusted  with  the  trans- 
portation of  the  saddle-bags,  in  which  were  packed 
a  chicken-luncheon,  a  lot  of  ammunition,  and  a  few 
bottles.  He  hung  them  across  the  back  of  his 
saddle,  gravely  mounted  to  his  seat,  grasped  his 
deadly  rifle  firmly,  and  gave  the  signal  for  the  start 
in  a  loud  clear  voice :  Vamos !  It  was  as  even  a 
start  as  I  ever  saw  on  a  race-track,  all  three  horses 
bounding  about  ten  feet  at  the  first  jump.  Mousey, 
Lloyd's  horse,  shot  a  little  ahead;  Juanita  fol- 
lowed close  on  his  flank;  and  Whitey,  the  Doc- 
tor's incomparable  mustang,  dropped  a  trifle  in  the 


THE   TRIP  TO  SAN  RAFAEL. 


149 


rear.  At  the  end  of  forty  rods  there  came  a  sud- 
den change  in  the  order  of  the  procession.  Lloyd's 
horse  had  run  away  with  him,  and,  from  sheer  force 
of  habit,  taken  the  left-hand  road  toward  the  State 
Prison,  instead  of  the  right-hand  one  leading  to  San 
Rafael.  The  Doctor  seeing  the  mistake  called  out 
"  No  !  no  !"  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  His  intelligent 
mustang,  from  an  excess  of  zeal  to  obey  orders,  had 
both  ears  erect  and  open,  expecting  that  our  speed 
would  not  last  and  the  order  "whoa"  would  be 
given.  In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  he  mis- 
took the  word,  or  feared  that  he  might  have  mis- 
taken it,  and  to  make  a  sure  thing  put  out  his  fore 
legs,  stiff-kneed,  which  movement  by  a  horse  of 
playful  disposition  is  termed  "  bucking."  Horse  and 
rider  in  such  cases  generally  find  it  difficult  to  con- 
tinue in  company,  and  so  part,  as  the  best  of  friends 
sometimes  must.  That  is  just  what  the  Doctor  and 
his  mustang  did,  at  the  moment  I  turned  my  head. 
Following  the  Doctor  something  rose  gracefully  from 
the  rear  of  the  saddle,  described  a  gentle  curve  in 
the  air,  and  landed  with  a  loud  thud  and  a  sharp 
jingle  on  the  hard  road,  a  few  feet  ahead  of  him. 
It  was  the  saddle-bags,  and  the  jingle  sounded  sus- 
piciously like  that  of  broken  glass — which  we  found 
no  difficulty  in  ascertaining  that  it  was.  Juanita,  not 
caring  to  run  over  the  Doctor,  jumped  backward 
suddenly,  and  in  doing  so  left  me  sitting  unsup- 
ported in  the  air.  I  make  it  a  rule  not  to  war  against 
nature's  laws.  Those  laws  say  that  in  such  cases 
one  must  come  down.  The  ground  in  that  particular 
locality  is  very  solid,  as  I  ascertained  beyond  a  doubt. 


j  -0  TAMALPAIS. 

Juanita  walked  up  to  the  saddle-bags,  sniffed  at  them 
with  distended  nostrils  and  eyes  opened  wide  with 
horror.  Well  might  she  do  so  !  The  escaping  fluid 
made  the  leather  curl  up  like  a  burned  boot,  and  as 
I  held  them  up  the  liquor  ran  from  them  much  as 
you  may  see  it  run  from  a  clam  fresh  dug  from  the 
sand. 

A  startling  thought  suggested  itself,  and  I  was  on 
the  point  of  dropping  them  when  the  Doctor  rolled 
over  in  the  dust  and  called  out,  "  Oh,  never  fear ; 
there  ain't  going  to  be  a  second  explosion ;  the 
powder  is  in  a  tin  case  on  the  other  side !"  I  felt  re- 
assured and  comforted,  and  proceeded  to  replace 
them  upon  the  Doctor's  saddle  and  tie  them  on. 
None  of  the  horses  appeared  to  have  been  seriously 
hurt. 

The  party  once  more  united,  we  took  a  fresh  start. 
Whitey,  with  the  Doctor  in  the  saddle,  led  off  this 
time.  Some  of  the  liquor  from  the  saddle-bags 
oozed  out  upon  his  back,  and  appeared  to  infuse 
new  spirit  into  him.  He  reared  up  behind,  and  let 
out  his  legs  right  and  left  as  if  feeling  for  the  object 
which  annoyed  him,  switched  his  tail  and  snorted 
viciously,  then  bolted  for  San  Rafael  as  if  life  or 
death  depended  on  his  reaching  there  inside  of  ten 
minutes  and  he  meant  to  be  there  on  time.  He 
buckled  down  to  the  work  like  a  woodchuck  hunting 
a  new  hole,  and  made  every  point  tell.  Occasion- 
ally his  hind  legs,  getting  impatient  of  the  rate  of 
progress  made  by  the  fore  ones,  would  make  a 
spasmodic  effort  to  go  off  on  their  own  hook  and 
take  the  lead,  thereby  causing  the   Doctor  to  roll 


ROUGH  RIDING.  T  -  T 

1  ~>  I 


and  pitch  like  a  ship  in  a  cross  sea  with  a  head  wind. 
But  the  Doctor  is  game  when  his  blood  is  up,  and  it 
was  at  the  boiling  point  just  then.  Holding  the  rein 
and  grasping  the  pommel  of  the  saddle  at  the  same 
time  with  one  hand,  he  swung  his  heavy  Henry  rifle 
with  the  other,  bringing  it  down  at  every  swing  with 
vindictive  energy  upon  the  head  of  the  accursed 
brute,  whack!  whack!  whack!  and  thus  he  continued 
to  encourage  him  all  the  way  to  San  Rafael,  a  dis- 
tance of  some  three  miles.  As  the  wrath  of  the 
Doctor  rose,  so  did  his  pantaloons,  the  bottoms  of 
which  were  soon  riding  in  triumph  above  the  tops  of 
his  boots,  and  essaying,  with  every  prospect  of  suc- 
cess, a  flight  above  his  knees.  The  Doctor  hung  to 
the  saddle  and  the  rifle,  and  allowed  minor  matters  to 
take  their  course.  Mousey  seemed  to  rather  enjoy 
the  situation,  and  kept  close  upon  Whitey's  heels, 
while  Juanita,  thinking  it  was  a  race  for  grand  cash, 
went  in  to  win  or  die.  My  foot  coming  in  contact 
with  Lloyd's  horse  was  knocked  out  of  the  stirrup, 
and  in  attempting  to  replace  it,  I  dropped  the  rein, 
which  the  gun  in  my  hand  prevented  me  from  regaining, 
and  I  was  at  sea  rudderless  and  drifting  helpless  be- 
fore the  storm.  A  gang  of  Chinese  laborers  were 
cutting  a  ditch  alongside  the  turnpike,  and  seeing  us 
coming,  they  ran  up  the  side  of  the  road,  swinging  their 
broad-brimmed  bamboo  hats,  and  making  the  air  ring 
with  shouts,  beside  which  the  note  of  the  pea- 
cock on  the  wall  in  springtime  is  as  the  melody  of 
the  spheres.  Two  stage  coaches  filled  with  passen- 
gers had  left  the  embarcadero  ahead  of  us,  bound  for 


,  co  TAMALPAIS. 

San  Rafael,  and  as  we  approached  them,  the  drivers 
kindly  reined  the  teams  out  of  the  track  to  give  us  a 
clear  field,  while  all  hands  lent  us  their  assistance  in 
the  shape  of  three  rousing  cheers  and  a  tiger.  I  am 
always  thankful  for  human  sympathy  and  encourage- 
ment, properly  expressed  and  at  the  proper  time,  but 
I  would  at  that  moment,  had  I  been  consulted,  have 
preferred  that  the  demonstration  made  by  the  pas- 
sengers in  those  coaches  should  have  been  a  trifle 
less  ostentatious  and  energetic,  and  possibly  post- 
poned altogether  for  a  day  or  two.  I  have  a  dim  recol- 
lection of  hearing  the  Doctor  give  expression  to  a  wish 
to  see  the  entire  party  of  them  roasting  somewhere, 
and  of  not  feeling  shocked  thereat,  although,  as  I  am 
bitterly  opposed  to  everything  bordering  on  slang  and 
profanity,  I  suppose  I  was  in  duty  bound  to  feel 
shocked  at  his  remark ;  but  I  was  very  busy  at  the 
moment,  and  somehow  I  did  not.  I  don't  think  a 
three-mile  race-track  was  ever  got  over  in  less  time 
than  it  took  us  to  make  the  run  from  the  embarcadero 
to  San  Rafael  after  the  second  start.  The  hospitable 
citizens  of  San  Rafael  saw  us  coming,  with  a  cloud  of 
dust  spinning  out  in  our  wake  like  the  tail  of  a  comet, 
and  with  one  accord  turned  out  to  greet  us.  They 
appeared  to  be  apprehensive  that  we  might  go  right 
on  to  the  next  town  without  stopping,  and  to  ensure 
a  different  result  they  ranged  themselves  in  a  line 
across  the  road,  brandished  hands,  arms,  hats,  and 
everything  else  they  could  lay  hold  of  at  the  moment, 
shouting,  as  with  one  voice,  whoa!  Whitey  and 
Mousey  "whoaed"  so  suddenly  that  their  riders  were 


A  FRESH  START.  T  -  ,, 

1  J  3 

enabled  to  dismount  without  an  effort;  but  Juanita 
having  naught  save  her  own  sweet  will  to  guide  her 
since  I  had  lost  the  rein,  turned  aside,  went  through 
a  picket-fence,  caromed  on  a  market- vegetable  cart 
which  stood  in  the  field,  and  went  down  with  a  crash 
which  sounded  in  my  sensitive  ears  like  that  which 
will  in  due  time  announce  the  final  dissolution  of  the 
universe.  When  I  recovered  my  senses  I  was  sit- 
ting in  a  potato -patch,  solitary  in  my  glory,  like 
Marius,  .with  the  ruins  of  Carthage  around  me.  Thus 
we  made  our  triumphal  entry  into  San  Rafael. 

We  repaired  to  the  hotel,  bound  up  and  anointed 
our  smarting  wounds,  sent  out  a  party  to  gather  in 
our  traps,  which  had  been  scattered  all  along  the  road, 
then  held  a  council  of  war.  We  did  not  feel  much 
like  going  forward,  in  truth,  but  then  we  were  ashamed 
to  go  back,  and  advance  we  must.  With  much  in- 
quiry and  diligent  search,  we  found  a  native  who 
knew  the  trail  to  the  top  of  Tamalpais,  and  was  will- 
ing, for  a  consideration,  to  pilot  us  there  next  day. 
•  The  sum  demanded  for  his  services  was  more  than  he 
had  honestly  earned  before  in  his  entire  lifetime,  but 
we  needed  him,  and  were  at  his  mercy. 

Sunrise  saw  us  all  in  the  saddle.  We  found  that 
during  the  night,  lumps  of  the  size  of  acorns,  hickory 
nuts,  even  black  walnuts,  had  grown  on  those  sad- 
dles just  where  we  found  it  most  inconvenient  to  have 
them,  but  were  forced  to  grin  and  bear  the  infliction 
as  best  we  migfht.  After  a  half-mile  ride  through  the 
fields,  we  came  in  sight  of  a  flock  of  quail  running 
along  in  the  road  ahead,  and  a  halt  along  the  entire 


.  -  .  TAMALPAIS. 

*54 

line  was  ordered.     Lloyd,  having  the  biggest  gun,  was 
ordered  to  dismount  and  deploy  as  skirmisher.    With 
trailed  shotgun   he   crept  through  an  acre  or  two  of 
dusty  chaparral,  and  came  to  a  halt  at  last  on  the 
flank  and  within  twenty  yards   of  the  unsuspecting 
enemy.     We  saw  him  rise  slowly  and  deliberately, 
bring  his  murderous  weapon  to  bear,  take  deadly  aim 
— it  seemed  to  us,  waiting  there  in  breathless  expec- 
tation, that  it  took  him  an  hour  at  least  to  do  it — 
then  discharge  both  barrels  at  once.     There  was  a 
shock  and  concussion  like  the  explosion  of  a  mine,  a 
deep   reverberation    rolling    away   and   dying   in   a 
thousand  echoes  in  the  gorges  of  the  mountain.     But 
the  gunner,  where  was  he?     Lying  prone  upon  his 
back  in  the  bushes,  kicking  up  as  much  dust  as  is 
raised  by  an  ordinary  threshing  machine  in  full  opera- 
tion, as  he  kicked  right  and  left  in  his  agony     .When 
he  arose  at  last  his  upper  lip  was  of  the  thickness  of 
a  fifty-cent  sirloin  steak,  and  his  nose  was  bleeding 
profusely.     He  ventured  the  opinion  that   he  must 
have  been  .stung  by  hornets  while  he  was  down.     If 
such  was  the  case,  it  was  a  very  unmanly  and  cow- 
ardly thing  for  the  hornets  to  do;  that  is  all  I  have 
to  say  on  the  subject.     When  the  shot  from  his  gun 
struck  the  dust  in  the  road  and  raised  it  in  a  cloud,   I 
looked  to   see  at  least  a   dozen  quail    lying  in  the 
agonies  of  death    in  the    road,    as    it   subsided.     In 
place  thereof  I  saw  the  entire  covey  on  the  wing  for 
the  chaparral  higher  up  on  the  mcvntain^side.  There 
were  plenty  of  feathers  in  the  road,  however,  which 
showed  that  he  must  have  startled  them  considerably. 


A  KNOWING  DOG.  j„ 

As  next  in  rank  I  then  took  up  the  fight,  and  dis- 
charged both  barrels  at  the  flying  enemy,  as  I  sat  on 
horseback,  Juanita  dancing  a  break-down  jig  as  I  did 
so.  One  bird  came  down  with  a  crippled  wing,  but 
made  tracks  for  the  bushes  the  moment  it  touched 
the  ground.  Before  he  reached  cover,  the  Doctor, 
who  represented  the  artillery,  sent  half  a  dozen  bul- 
lets from  his  Henry  rifle  whkzing  after  him,  making 
it  very  lively  indeed  for  him,  but  not  even  knocking 
out  a  feather.  Just  then  a  ranchero's  dog  came  trot- 
ting down  the  road,  and  calling  him  to  us,  I  pointed 
to  the  clump  of  chaparral  in  which  the  wounded 
quail  had  taken  refuge,  clapping  my  hands  and  shout- 
ing "sic  him!  sic  him!"  with  all  my  might  at  the 
same  time.  Thus  encouraged,  our  volunteer  corps 
went  in.  and  to  our  infinite  satisfaction  we  heard  that 
miserable  quail  piping  like  a  sick  chicken  in  a 
moment  more.  "We've  got  him!  We've  got  him!" 
we  shouted  in  chorus.  We  were  in  error  aorain;  the 
dog  had  got  him,  and  a  brief  observation  of  his 
movements  satisfied  us  that  he  meant  to  keep  him 
too.  The  infamous  brute  absolutely  had  the  audacity 
to  walk  out  of  the  bushes  with  our  quail  in  his  mouth, 
right  before  our  eyes,  and  refusing  with  a  savage 
growl  to  surrender  it  to  me,  trot  deliberately  off  down 
the  road,  toward  the  residence  of  his  master.  "Here, 
doggy!  Come,  doggy!  O,  the  nice  doggy!  pretty 
doggy!"  etc.,  we  repeated  in  the  most  persuasive 
and  endearing  accents,  only  to  provoke  his  visible 
contempt,  and  increase  the  derisive  elevation  of  his 
vertebrae  and  the  rate  of  his  speed.     What  kind  of 


j    £  TAMALPAJS. 

an  education  must  such  a  dog  have  had?  let  me  ask 
in  all  seriousness.  The  Doctor  could  stand  it  no 
longer,  but  drew  a  bead  and  let  drive  a  bullet 
full  at  his  head.  The  bullet  went  just  wide  enough 
of  the  mark  to  accomplish  the  desired  result.  Drop- 
ping the  quail  with  a  savage  growl  he  darted  off  on 
a  run,  howling  and  yelping  with  the  full  power  of  his 
lungs  at  every  jump.  To  corral  that  quail,  our  first 
trophy,  was  the  work  of  a  moment.  It  is  safe  to 
say  that  we  lost  no  time  in  wringing  his  neck  after 
our  hands  were  on  him. 

Then  a  change  came  over  the  spirit  of  our  dream. 
Our  firing  and  the  subsequent  howling  of  the  base, 
uno-rateful  cur,  had  attracted  the  attention  of  his  baser 
owner,  and  he  put  in  an  appearance  very  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly.  Flourishing  a  hayfork  threaten- 
ingly, he  demanded  to  know  which  thief  had  been 
trying  to  kill  his  valuable  and  intelligent  "animal." 

Lloyd,  who  had  just  concluded  the  operation  of 
washing  his  face  in  a  spring,  thereby  apparently  re- 
peating the  miracle  of  Cana,  feeling  that  this  was 
adding  insult  to  injury,  volunteered  in  clear  and  forci- 
ble language  to  "put  a  head  on  him,"  then  and  there, 
in  three  seconds,  if  he  "would  just  lay  down  that 
pitchfork."  "If  the  head  you  would  put  on  me 
would  resemble  the  one  you  carry  around,  I  would 
sooner  be  shot  down  dead  on  the  spot,  and  be  out 
of  misery  at  once,  than  take  it!  You  look  as  if 
you  were  in  the  murder  line,  anyhow,  and  perhaps 
you  might  as  well  go  right  on  with  your  infamous 
work  as  it  is!"  was  the  delicate  and   gentlemanly 


UP  THE  MOUNTAIN.  T  -  - 

1  j/ 

reply  of  the  irate  tiller  of  the  soil.  We — the  Doctor 
and  myself — argued  the  case  more  temperately,  and 
eventually  the  aggrieved  owner  of  that  lop-eared  cur 
became  so  far  mollified  as  to  accept  of  a  drink  from 
the  bottle  of  new  whisky,  which  we  had  procured 
at  San  Rafael,  after  our  first  disaster  on  the  road. 
When  he  took  the  bottle  from  his  lips,  his  eyes  were 
fall  of  tears,  his  lips  were  purple,  and  he  gasped  con- 
vulsively for  breath.  We  felt  that  we  were  avenged, 
and,  remounting,  rode  silently  away  up  the  trail, 
carrying  our  dead  and  wounded  with  us. 

Out  of  the  dusty  carriage-road,  at  last  we  entered 
the  narrow  bridle-trail,  which  winds  up  the  steep 
mountain-side,  through  the  rocky  malpais,  covered 
with  wide  fields  of  the  bitter  chemisal,  which  spreads 
over  the  whole  upper  part  of  the  mountain.  This 
bitter  shrub,  of  the  leaves  of  which  no  living  creature 
will  eat,  grows  only  on  ground  which  will  support 
no',hing  else,  and  is  worthless  for  every  purpose  save 
that  of  holding  the  earth  together.  The  sun  was 
well  up  in  the  heavens  and  the  air  growing  oppres- 
sively warm,  when  we  passed  above  the  timbered 
belt,  and  entered  this  chemisal  country.  We  halted 
and  looked  back.  In  the  southeast,  San  Francisco, 
lying  overstretched,  a  tawny  giant  upon  the  gray 
hills  of  the  peninsula,  showed  dimly  through  the 
veil  of  yellow  dust,  dun-colored  smoke,  and  thin,  lu- 
minous vapor  which  overhung  it.  Down  to  the  south- 
ward, almost  at  our  feet,  lay  the  Golden  Gate,  the 
Presidio  of  San  Francisco,  and  the  straits  leading  up 
from  the  ocean  to  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco,  with  the 


j  ^3  TAMALPAIS. 

rock  fortress  of  Alcatraz  presenting  its  tier  above  tier 
of  black  cannon,  standing  like  the  sentinel  at  the  gate- 
way, keeping  grim  watch  and  ward  at  the  western 
portal  of  a  mighty  land.  A  huge,  black- hulled  steamer 
was  heading  out  through  the  Golden  Gate  into  the 
blue  Pacific,  bound  for  the  Columbia,  Victoria,  Mexico, 
Panama,  or  possibly  to  far-off  lands  on  the  other  edge 
of  the  world,  beyond  our  western  horizon.  White  sails 
gleamed  here  and  there  over  the  whole  Bay  of  San 
Francisco,  and  over  its  broad  surface  white-hulled  ferry 
and  river  steamers  could  be  seen  plowing  their  way. 
The  Bay  of  San  Pablo  was  a  duck-pond  at  our  feet — 
the  Straits  of  Carquinez  dwindling  away  to  a  mere 
silver  thread  in  the  distance — and  the  Bay  of  Suisun 
only  a  whitey-brown  patch  in  the  landscape  farther 
north.  Oakland,  and  all  her  sister  towns  along  the 
eastern  shore  of  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco,  looked  out 
here  and  there  from  the  midst  of  embowering  trees. 
Mount  Diablo,  clad  in  garments  of  dun  and  straw  color, 
rose  high  into  the  blue  sky  on  the  eastward,  seeming 
to  ascend  as  we  ascended,  and  grow  taller  and  more 
gigantic  at  every  step ;  following  us  up,  as  it  were, 
and  bullying  us  as  we  went,  as  if  determined  that  we 
should  not  be  permitted  to  look  down  upon  him  nor 
receive  a  diminished  idea  of  his  importance.  North- 
ward and  northeastward,  stretching  out  leagues  on 
leagues  from  his  base,  were  the  wide,  dark  tule  swamps, 
and  half-submerofed  islands  of  the  Sacramento  and 
San  Joaquin,  bordered  by  bright,  straw-colored  val- 
leys, stretching  away  to  the  point  where  the  dark  green 
line  ot  the  summits  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  melted  into 


A  FINE  PICTURE.  I  rg 

and  blended  with  the  blue  cloudless  sky  of  autumn, 
upon  the  farther  verge  of  the  horizon.  We  looked 
down  upon  the  homes  of  two  hundred  thousand  toil- 
ing, active  and  busy  people.  The  homes  of  millions 
of  happy,  contented,  abundantly  blessed  people,  will 
in  a  few  years  fill  that  broad  land  on  which  we  gazed 
with  deep  and  silent  admiration  that  morning.  If  I 
were  a  painter,  I  would  unroll  my  canvas  at  that 
point,  and  paint  you  such  a  picture  as  you  should 
stand  before  and  gaze  upon  with  unspeakable  delight 
from  morn  to  night.  I  am  not — more  is  the  pity  ! 
For  half  an  hour  the  glorious  scene  held  us  enchanted; 
then  the  destructive  element  in  our  nature  asserted  its 
supremacy  again,  and  we  began  to  talk  of  deeds  of 
blood  once  more. 

"  Manuel,  when  we  engaged  you  as  our  guide,  you 
promised  on  the  honor  of  a  descendant  of  conquering 
Castile,  and  the  faith  of  a  Christiano,  to  show  us  at 
least  the  track  of  a  grizzly  bear!     Do  it !" 

Manuel,  with  a  brow  slightly  clouded,  arose  slowly, 
mounted  his  horse  a  little  hesitatingly,  and  led  us  on- 
ward up  the  steep  acclivity.  Half  a  mile  brought  us 
to  a  saddle-back,  on  one  side  of  .which  there  was  a 
narrow  grass-plat.  Looking  carefully  along  the  other 
side,  among  the  chemisal,  broken  rocks,  and  coarse 
gravelly  soil,  he  discovered  at  length  a  track,  at  which 
he  pointed  in  silent  triumph.  A  painter  desiring  to 
catch  the  smile  of  benign  ecstacy  which  illumined 
the  countenance  of  the  beloved  disciple,  would  have 
found  fame  and  fortune  in  the  face  of  Manuel  at  that 
moment,  had  he  the  talent  to  catch  the  expression, 


i6o 


TAMAI.PAIS. 


transcribe  it  faithfully,  and  hand  it  down  to  a  devout 
and  admiring  posterity.  Few  and  short  were  the 
words  we  spoke.  The  Doctor,  with  countenance 
grave  and  stern,  refilled  the  magazine  of  his  rifle  with 
cartridges,  and  borrowed  Lloyd's  revolver.  When  I 
make  my  appearance  upon  the  boards  in  the  great 
character  of  "William  Tell,"  I  shall  recall  to  mind 
the  attitude  and  expression  of  the  Doctor  at  that  mo- 
ment ;  and  with  such  a  model  have  never  a  fear  but 
that  the  gods  in  the  gallery  will  bestow  their  applause 
until  the  roof  rings  again.  Lloyd  took  up  a  position 
immediately  in  rear  of  the  Doctor,  with  his  teeth  firm 
set,  and  his  double-barreled  No.  8  stub -and -twist 
grasped  pretty  firmly  in  both  hands.  For  myself,  I 
determined  that,  come  what  might,  I  would  not  see 
the  poor  horses  victimized  for  our  folly,  and  I  would 
stay  by  them,  and  get  them  out  of  danger  as  quickly 
at  their  legs  could  carry  them,  on  the  first  appearance 
of  the  infuriated  grizzly.  One  of  the  most  prominent 
features  of  my  character  has  ever  been  a  certain 
watchful  forethought,  which  would  have  made  me 
invaluable  as  the  commander  of  an  army.  Had  I 
commanded  at  Bull  Run — but  then,  I  did  not  command 
at  Bull  Run,  and  the  history  of  that  unfortunate  affair 
has  already  been  written  ! 

As  I  was  proceeding  to  mount  and  ride  off  with 
the  horses,  I  chanced  to  look  at  the  bear  track,  where 
it  crossed  the  soft  bit  of  grassy  ground  on  the  side  of 
the  hog-back,  opposite  where  Manuel  had  pointed  it 
out  in  the  hard,  rocky  soil ;  and  with  the  bluntness  of 
an  impulsive  and  ingenuous  nature,  thoughtlessly  re- 


AM  IRON-SHOD  BEAR.  1 5  ] 

marked  that  the  Tamalpais  grizzlies  had  the  good 
sense  to  follow  the  example  of  the  horses  thereabouts, 
and  wear  sharp  heel- corks.  The  Doctor  heard  the 
remark,  and  coming  back  to  where  I  stood,  examined 
the  track  carefully.  I  heard  him  utter  something  in  a 
deep  undertone,  which  I  am  sure  was  not  an  invoca- 
tion of  the  blessing  on  the  head  of  that  descendant 
of  the  old  Castilians.  Manuel's  quick  ears  caught  it,  and 
with  an  expression  of  general  disgust  as  he  looked  at  the 
whole  party,  and  a  glance  of  malignant  hate  at  me,  he 
turned  his  horse's  head  toward  the  summit  of  the  mount- 
ain, and  rode  off  without  a  word.  For  the  next  half  hour 
no  one  of  us  spoke  a  word — out  hearts  were  two  full. 
Two  miles  more  of  hard  climbing,  the  sweat  pour- 
ing in  streams  off  our  panting  horses,  brought  us 
to  a  little  secluded  flat,  in  a  narrow  canon  but  a 
short  distance  below  the  summit.  There  is  a  fine 
spring  of  pure,  cold  water  there,  and  a  number  of 
huge,  old  oaks,  gray  with  the  long,  trailing  moss, 
which  is  nourished  by  the  abundant  moisture  con- 
densed upon  it  daily  from  the  dense  sea  fogs  which 
roll  up  over  the  summit  at  brief  intervals  all  the  year 
round.  Here  we  unpacked  our  traps,  uncinched  and 
picketed  out  our  tired  horses,  and  prepared  for  a  long 
and  vigorous  campaign.  The  quails,  driven  up  the 
mountain  from  all  the  valleys  below  by  the  incessant 
raids  of  the  pot-hunters,  fairly  swarmed  in  this  canon, 
having  found  it  a  safe  haven  of  refuge  up  to  this  time 
that  season.  We  killed  several  and  badly  frightened 
a  considerably  greater  number.  Then  we  spread  our 
table  and  lunched  gloriously. 


I  62 


TAMALPAIS. 


Alter  lunch,  we  went  over  the  ground  once  more, 
bagging  a  few  more  quail,  and  then  climbed  to  the 
summit  of  the  mountain  and  looked  down  on  the  blue, 
illimitable  Pacific  ;  that  is  to  say,  we  looked  down  the 
steep  western  slope  of  the  mountain  in  the  direction 
where  the  blue,  illimitable  Pacific  was,  and  still  is,  and 
probably  always  will  be,  located,  and  would  have  seen 
it  had  it  not  been  hidden  beneath  a  bank  of  snow- 
white  fog,  as  solid  and  impenetrable  to  the  eye  as  the 
mountain  itself.  We  could  hear  the  incessant  moan- 
ing of  the  sea,  as  it  dashed  its  waves  on  the  rock- 
bound  coast  beneath  us,  but  that  was  all.  The  bay 
where  the  chivalrous  old  filibuster  and  pirate  Sir 
Francis  Drake  moored  his  fleet  some  centuries  ago, 
and  from  whence  he  sailed  some  weeks  later,  without 
an  idea  of  the  existence  of  the  grand  Bay  of  San  Fran- 
cisco and  the  glorious  country  of  which  the  Golden 
Gate,  right  under  his  long,  sharp,  rakish  nose,  is  the 
portal,  was  just  below  us  on  the  northwest,  but  it 
might  as  well  have  been  a  thousand  miles  away.  Point 
Lobos  and  Point  Bonita  were  invisible,  and  the  Far- 
rallones  were  buried  countless  fathoms  deep  beneath 
the  fog-bank.  All  was  an  utter  blank  from  a  point  a 
thousand  feet  beneath  us.  Even  as  we  gazed  upon 
it,  the  bosom  of  the  snowy  fog -bank  heaved  and 
rocked  at  the  touch  of  the  rising  gale  ;  then  the  whole 
vast  fleecy  mass  moved  inward  upon  the  land,  and 
silently,  but  with  the  speed  of  thought,  and  apparently 
with  irresistible  force,  came  rushing  like  a  mighty  ava- 
lanche up  the  slope  of  the  mountain  toward  the  summit 
on  which  we  stood.     "We  shall  see  nothing,    and 


THE  FOG  BELL,  jg., 

may  lose  our  way  in  the  mist ;  let  us  vamos;  and  we 
vamosed. 

As  we  turned  our  steps  to  the  eastward  and  passed 
over  the  crest  of  the  mountain  again,  we  saw  the  mist 
moving  up  through  the  Golden  Gate,  and  rolling  over 
the  island  of  Alcatraz,  which  in  a  moment  was  en- 
veloped and  hidden  from  sight.  As  the  island  dis- 
appeared, the  low,  mournful  voice  of  the  tolling  fog- 
bell  came  faintly  but  distinctly  to  our  ears,  borne  on 
the  soft,  moist  air.  B-o-o-m!  b-o-o-m!  b-Q-o-m!  a 
throbbing  pulsation  of  sound,  always  inexpressibly 
painful  for  me  to  listen  to,  and  I  have  heard  it  thou- 
sands of  times.  A  San  Francisco  poet  has  beauti- 
fully expressed  in  the  following  lines  the  thoughts 
awakened  by  night — and  by  day  as  well — not  in  his 
mind  alone,  by  the  voice  of 

THE   FOG   BELL   OF    ALCATRAZ. 

O  weary  warden,  that  o'er  sea  and  marshes 

Monotonously  calls 
Thy  challenge  to  the  foe,  whose  stealthy  marches 
Invest  the  city  walls. 

Thy  voice  of  warning  far  and  wide  diverges, 

Thrilling  the  midnight  air  ; 
Yet  in  thy  tower,  above  the  rocking  surges, 

Thou  dost  not  heed,  nor  care. 

Thou  readest  not  the  message  of  thy  bringing  ; 

Thou  dost  not  know  the  weight 
Of  that  which  in  thy  little  are  forever  swinging, 

Thou  dost  reiterate. 

Thou  heedest  not  the  text,  whose  repetition 

Makes  the  dark  night  more  drear  ; 
Thou  fill'st  the  world  with  formal  admonition — 

Rut  show'st  no  sky  more  clear  ! 


x64  TAMALPAIS. 

Thou  see'st  not  the  binnacle  light  that  glistens 

Upon  the  slippery  deck  ; 
Thou  markest  not  the  mariner  who  listens  ; 

Thou  see'st  not  the  wreck. 

Vain  is  thy  challenge — vain  thy  admonition  — 

To  all  who  hear  or  pass  ; 
Having  not  Love  nor  Pity — thy  condition 

Is  but  "  as  sounding  brass." 

O  formal  Dervish  !  rocking  in  thy  tower, 

That  looks  across  the  deep, 
Cry,  O  Muezzin,  "God  is  God!"  each  hour — 

But  let  believers  sleep. 

Thou  hast  the  word,  O  too  insensate  preacher, 

But  having  nought  beyond, 
The  fate  thou  criest,  and  thyself  the  teacher, 

Alike  by  man  are  shunned. 

We  listened  some  minutes  to  the  steady,  monoto- 
nous, and  mournful  pealing  of  the  fog-bell,  then  hur- 
riedly retraced  our  steps  to  the  canon  in  which  we 
had  left  our  guide  and  the  horses.  The  horses  were 
all  right ;  but  the  guide  lay  stretched  at  full  length 
upon  the  ground,  motionless  and  rigid  as  the  Cardiff 
giant.  We  were  by  his  side  in  a  moment.  "Asleep ! " 
said  Lloyd.  "Dead!"  suggested  the  Doctor.  "In  a 
fit !"  hazarded  your  humble  servant.  He  was  drunk 
— simply,  but  terribly  drunk — our  bottle  lying  empty 
beside  him,  and  our  hearts  were  unutterably  sad  and 
full,  aye,  even  slopping  over — of  bitterness.  We 
found  a  flat  rock  of  suitable  proportions,  and  erected 
it,  with  an  appropriate  inscription,  scrawled  with  the 
end  of  a  burned  stick,  as  a  tombstone  at  his  head  ; 
placed  another  at  his  feet,  inserted  a  soft  boulder  under 
his  head  as  a  pillow,  laid  two  smaller  ones  gently  on 
his  eyes,  and  rode  away  in  sorrow  and  in  silence. 


BLANK  VERSE.  lfr^ 

That  faithless  watcher  had  told  us  before  we  left 
him  to  ascend  to  the  summit,  that  a  trail  led  back 
along-  a  winding  ridge  and  through  a  timbered  coun- 
try,  and  so  down  the  mountain  by  the  way  of  La- 
gunitas,  a  lumber-camp  near  the  foot,  and  advised  us 
to  return  that  way.  We  started  to  carry  out  his  pro- 
gramme without  him.  After  we  had  ridden  a  short 
distance,  alone  pigeon  perched  upon  the  top  limb  of  a 
dead  tree  attracted  our  attention,  and  all  firing  at  once, 
we  brought  him  lifeless  to  the  ground ;  then  indulged  in 
an  animated  and  somewhat  acrimonious  discussion  as 
to  who  fired  the  fatal  shot,  until  the  fog -drift  was 
upon  us.  We  rode  along  the  ridge  a  mile  or  two  in 
the  dense,  salt  fog,  until  our  clothing  was  drenched 
as  if  from  a  thunder  shower,  and  we  all  smelled  like 
so  many  Point  Lobos  mussels,  while  water  streamed 
out  of  the  barrels  of  our  guns,  whenever  we  turned 
them  muzzle  downward.  "This  is  poetry  condensed!" 
I  had  exclaimed  enthusiastically,  as  we  looked  down 
in  delight  upon  the  scene  spread  out  before  us,  as  we 
ascended  the  eastern  slope  of  the  mountain.  "I'll  be 
blamed  if  this  is  not  prose!  "  said  the  Doctor,  as  he 
gazed  ruefully  at  the  approaching  fog-bank  which 
shut  us  out  from  the  sight  of  everything  on  the  west 
from  the  summit  of  the  mountain.  "This  is  blank 
verse! "  cried  Lloyd,  as  he  now  swept  the  drops  of 
gathered  moisture  from  his  face  in  a  shower,  and 
mopped  himself  industriously  with  his  dripping  hand- 
kerchief. 

Suddenly  we  emerged  from  the  cloud,  and  found 
ourselves  below  and  outside  of  it,  and  in  the  sunshine 


j  (3  5  TAMALPAIS. 

again.  We  halted  and  gave  three  cheers.  We  were 
out  of  the  woods,  and  out  of  the  fog,  and  five  quails 
ahead.  The  fullness  of  our  high  hopes  of  the  morn- 
ing had  fallen  something  short  of  realization,  it  is 
true,  but  we  had  got  "a  starter"  nevertheless,  and 
still  had  before  us  some  hours  in  which  to  retrieve  the 
fortunes  of  the  day. 

~  We  went  on  down  the  steep  declivity  a  mile  or 
more  ;  then  came  upon  the  edge  of  one  still  more  pre- 
cipitous, and  looked  down  into  a  narrow,  romantic 
cauon,  at  the  bottom  of  which  is  Lagunita.  Descending 
this  precipice,  our  horses  occupied  something  the  po- 
sition of  red  squirrels  coming  down  the  side  of  a  barn. 
My  horse  being  at  the  rear,  had  his  nose  projected  far 
over  the  back  of  Lloyd's,  and  his  in  turn  was  tele- 
scoped— so  to  speak — over  the  Doctor's.  I  had  al- 
ways an  inquiring  mind,  and  a  tendency  toward  ex- 
periments. I  had  a  sharp  stick  in  my  hand,  and 
inserted  it  playfully  under  the  portion  of  Lloyd's  horse 
nearest  me.  The  experiment  was  an  eminent  success. 
Mousey,  by  way  of  passing  on  the  compliment,  seized 
Whitey  by  the  rump,  and  gave  him  a  nip  that 
brought  away  the  fur  by  the  handful.  Whitey  having 
nothing  before  him  to  get  even  on,  whirled  half 
round,  at  the  risk  of  his  rider's  neck,  and  went  for 
his  assailant  "for  all  there  was  in  sight."  Mousey 
lifted  his  heels,  and  my  horse  caught  the  full  force  of 
the  shock.  Things  rattled,  and  the  air  for  the  mo- 
ment was  blue  with  cursing.  When  order  was  at 
last  restored,  we  rode  on  in  sulky  silence.  They 
were  mad,  and  gave  me  no  credit  whatever  for  good 


MORE  GAME.  jg- 

intentions.  I  felt  hurt.  We  reached  and  passed  the 
saw-mills  and  hamlet  at  Lagunitas,  and  soon  came  to 
where  the  road  forked.  Falling  carelessly  behind,  I 
watched  my  opportunity  and  quietly  gave  them  the 
slip,  turning  off  down  one  trail  while  they  went  the 
other.  In  the  next  mile's  ride,  I  bagged  two  more 
quail.  Then  I  came  upon  a  little  lustrous-eyed, 
white- toothed  Mexican  boy  in  a  canon,  who  was  out 
with  a  bow  and  arrow,  going  the  rounds  to  look  at  his 
quail-traps.  He  had  several  quail,  and  I  acquired 
them.  Then  I  rode  on  with  him,  chatting  on  various 
subjects,  while  we  visited  all  his  traps.  He  had  lived 
some  years  in  sight,  and  almost  within  hearing  of  the 
bells  of  the  great  city  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  and  had 
never  been  in  it  in  his  life.  I  told  him  what  I  could  of 
its  wonders,  and  when  we  parted  company  I  was  four 
bits  out  in  coin,  but  had  seven  good,  healthy  quails 
to  show  for  my  work.  I  went  on  down  toward  the 
coast,  where  the  quails  had  been  less  harassed  by 
hunters,  and  coming  upon  several  large  coveys, 
swelled  my  game-bag  considerably  by  well  directed 
shots.  I  also  got  a  snap-shot  at  a  fine,  large  Cali- 
fornia hare,  and  corralled  him.  When  the  sun  went 
down  and  evening  stole  over  the  land,  I  rode  triumph- 
antly into  San  Rafael  with  twenty-three  quails  in  my 
game-bag  and  a  hare  slung  behind  my  saddle.  I  was 
"happy  and  content  as  one  of  Swimley's  boarders," 
and  felt  that  I  was  the  champion  shootist  of  the  party. 
Alas!  not  so.  There  is  no  limit  to  the  duplicity 
and  deceit  of  human  nature.  Lloyd  and  the  Doctor 
heard  my  story  in  silence  ;  saw  me  unpack  my  game, 


TAMALPAIS. 


1 68 

and  display  it  with  honest  pride,  with  an  expression  of 
contempt  upon  their  faces ;  then  led  the  way  exult- 
ingly  to  where  their  game  was  hanging.     There  were 
exactly  twelve  dozen  quails,  tied  neatly  in  bunches  of 
two  dozen  each,  hanging  on  the  wall.     I  was  stag- 
gered.    After  examining  them  closely,  I   remarked 
that  I  had  never  seen  so  great  a  quantity  of  game 
killed  with  so  slight  an  expenditure  of  ammunition — 
there  was  not  a  shot- mark  to  be  found  on  any  bird 
in  the  entire  lot  so  far  as  I   could  see ;  and  nearly 
every  one  had  his  neck  dislocated,  or  head  crushed 
in.     Travelers,  according  to  popular  opinion,  are  in- 
clined to  exaggeration,  and  will  sometimes  indulge  in 
something  very   like  outright  falsehood,    when    the 
truth  would  fall  short  of  creating  the  desired  sensa- 
tion.    From  my  youth  up  I  have  been  a  hunter,  and 
association  with  sportsmen  and  travelers  has  had  a 
tendency  to  fill  my  mind  with  suspicion  and  doubt,  as 
to  the  genuineness  of  trophies  of  the  chase  exhibited 
as  the  result  of  hunting  expeditions,  and  the  entire  reli- 
ableness of  travelers'  tales.    When  Gordon  Cumming 
returns  to  Europe,  from  a  raid  on  the  game  of  South 
Africa,  it  is  a  notorious  fact  that  it  is  next  to  impossible 
to  find  any  first-rate  lion-skins,  leopard-skins,  or  ele- 
phant-tusks of  extra  large  size  for  sale  in  the  markets 
of  Cape  Town  and  Natal.    In  our  own  country,  unscru- 
pulous parties  have  not  unfrequently  brought  obloquy 
upon  the  entire  fraternity,  by  returning  from  a  hunt 
with  more   game  than  they  could  possibly  have  shot 
within  the  number  of  hours  they  were  out,  even  if  the 
o-ame  had  been  ranged  before  them  in  platoons,  and 


OFF  FOR  SAN-  QUENTIN.  j  £g 

they  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  load  and  fire  from 
morning  to  night.  This  is  all  wrong,  and  I  took  oc- 
casion  to  say  as  much — in  a  spirit  of  pure  kindness, 
and  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger — to  my  companions 
and  a  few  spectators  at  this  time.  Did  I  receive  any 
thanks  for  my  disinterested  and  gratuitous  advice  ? 
Far  from  it ;  I  got  abuse  and  gross  personalities  in- 
stead. Such  is  human  nature!  I  replied  feelingly. 
I  was  tired  and  sore,  and  possibly  a  little  irritable ; 
but  I  solemnly  affirm  that  I  never  said  that  I  could 
whip  any  man  in  the  company.  I  am  no  prize- 
fighter ;  why  should  I  ?  As  to  the  San  Rafaelite 
who  interfered,  I  consider  him  wholly  inexcusable ;  and 
so  far  as  he  is  concerned,  am  not  sorry  for  what  he 
got  for  his  pains.  It  is  an  unpleasant  subject,  and  I 
dislike  to  pursue  it  any  further. 

Next  morning  we  were  in  the  saddle  again  at  eight 
o'clock,  having  despatched  our  game  and  firearms  by 
the  express  to  San  Francisco,  and  ran  our  horses  at 
the  dead  jump  all  the  way  to  San  Quentin,  arriving 
just  in  time  to  get  on  board  the  boat  for  the  city.  As 
the  boat  glided  away  down  the  Bay,  we  looked  back 
from  its  deck  and  saw  the  mountain  standing  out 
bold  and  free  from  cloud  or  fog  in  the  bright  morning 
sunlight,  and  bitterly  thought  of  the  experience  of 
yesterday. 

Thus,  truthfully  and  dispassionately,  after  the  lapse 
of  months,  have  I  written  up  this  history  of  our  great 
hunting,  fishing,  and  warlike  expedition  to  Tamalpais. 
As  I  have  already  remarked,  Tamalpais  is  one  of  the 
finest  of  the  lesser  mountains  of  California ;  an  at- 


j  j0  TAMALPAIS. 

tractive  mountain  to  look  at  from  Russian  or  Tele- 
graph Hill.  It  is  there  all  the  time.  You  may  see 
it  any  day ;  and  you  may  have  it  all  for  me.  The 
experiences  of  that  trip  disgusted  me  with  it  for  all 
time,  and  I  go  there  no  more.     Adios,  Tamalpais ! 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

NAPA   VALLEY   AND    MT.    ST.    HELENA. 

From  San  Francisco  to  Vallejo. — What  we  Saw  while  Crossing  the  Bay  of  San 
Pablo. — The  Valley  of  Napa. — A  Moonlight  Evening  in  the  Mountains. — 
Calistoga  by  Moonlight  and  Sunlight. — The  Baths. — Hot  Chicken-Soup 
Spring. — The  Petrified  Forest  of  Calistoga. — The  Great  Ranch  and  Vine- 
yards.— Ascent  of  Mount  St.  Helena. — What  we  Saw  from  the  Summit. — 
Reminiscences  of  the  Flood. — Story  of  the  Judge  and  the  Stranger. — "  Pres- 
ently, sir,  presently  !" — Good  Joke  on  the  Robbers. — What  happened  to  Me 
in  Arizona. — A  Good  Story,  but  too  Appreciative  an  Audience. 

A  soft  September  afternoon  ;  cloudless,  warm, 
quiet,  hardly  a  breath  or  breeze  to  ruffle  the  Bay  of 
San  Francisco.  The  summer  winds,  the  curse  of 
San  Francisco,  have  died  out,  and  one  can  enjoy  life 
once  more  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  metropolis 
of  the  Pacific.  Brown,  and  looking  as  old  as  the 
hills  on  which  she  stands,  is  San  Francisco,  the  won- 
derful city  of  a  day,  in  her  russet  coat  of  summer 
dust,  as  we  look  back  at  her  from  the  steamer's  deck. 
Straw  color,  mauve,  and  ashes  of  roses,  are  the  tints 
displayed  by  all  the  mountains  around  the  Bay,  save 
old  Tamalpais,  who,  clad  in  royal  purple,  looks 
grandly  down  upon  us  on  the  westward  as  our 
steamer  glides  swiftly  past  frowning  Alcatraz,  Angel 
Island  and  the  Red  Rock,  the  Dos  Hermanos  and 
the  Dos  Hermanas  (Two  Brothers  and  Two  Sisters, 
(170 


172  SCENES  FROM  THE  BAY. 

curious  round  rocks  rising  from  the  bosom  of  the 
Bay),  and  glide  into  the  Bay  of  San  Pablo,  with  the 
pretty  old  town  of  San  Pablo  peeping^out  from  be- 
neath the  evergreen  live  oaks,  and  exotic  shade 
trees,  on  the  Contra  Costa  shore  on  the  right,  and 
San  Ouentin,  with  its  gloomy  State  Prison,  on  the 
Marin  county  shore  on  the  left;  and  beyond,  nestled 
in  a  little  valley  away  up  under  the  dark  shadow  of 
Tamalpais,  the  picturesque  village  of  San  Rafael,  a 
noted  health-resort  for  San  Franciscans.  Through 
the  Bay  of  San  Pablo,  past  Mare  Island,  with  its 
navy- yard  and  barracks,  our  steamer  moves,  and 
turning  abruptly  northward,  just  as  we  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  straits  of  Carquinez,  opening  eastward  towards 
Martinez  and  Benicia,  rounds  to  at  the  railroad  wharf 
at  Vallejo,  some  thirty  miles  from  San  Francisco. 
We  saw  two  schools  of  porpoises  playing  in  the 
waters  of  San  Pablo  Bay;  thousands  of  pelicans  and 
shags  crowding  the  rocks  at  the  Dos  Hermanos,  a 
number  of  huge  fish,  sturgeon  or  salmon,  or  both, 
leaping  bodily  out  of  the  smooth  waters;  and  a 
remarkably  pretty  girl,  Spanish- American  we  judge, 
among  the  numerous  passengers  upon  the  steamer,  as 
we  came  along.  Masculine  and  human,  we  paid 
comparatively  little  attention  to  the  birds  and  fishes. 
Vallejo,  a  large,  straggling,  ambitious  village,  stand- 
ing where  a  city,  like  one  of  those  which  cluster  around 
New  York,  may  stand  years  hence,  claims  and  receives 
but  a  passing  glance,  and  we  are  on  board  the  cars, 
gliding  swiftly  northward,  out  of  the  reach  of  the 
cool  ocean  breezes,  and  into  one  of  the  fairest  valleys 


A  BEAUTIFUL  PICTURE.  j  -  - 


that  ever  the  sun  shone  on,  Napa.  At  the  lower  end 
of  this  valley  we  pass  through  the  thriving,  prosper- 
ous-looking, young  city  of  Napa,  with  its  grain  ware- 
houses on  the  banks  of  a  navigable  creek,  and  vessels' 
masts  showing  over  the  housetops,  as  in  Chicago. 
The  streets  are  wide,  and  the  houses,  which  have  a 
neat  and  homelike  Eastern  air,  are  surrounded  with 
blooming  gardens  and  orchards,  laden  with  red  and 
golden  fruit,  and  vines  borne  down  to  the  very  earth 
with  luscious  white,  flame-colored,  and  purple  grapes. 
Napa  looks  an  attractive  place  for  a  quiet  home,  and 
such  its  people  consider  it. 

The  sun  has  gone  down  in  the  purple  west,  and 
the  full,  round  autumn  moon  climbs  the  Eastern  hori- 
zon as  we  glide  away  northwards  through  the  valley 
of  Napa.  The  still,  pure  air  is  illuminated  by  the  rays 
of  the  moon  to  an  extent  hardly  to  be  credited  in  less 
favored  lands  beyond  the  Rocky  Mountains;  and  trees, 
rocks,  houses,  vineyards,  orchards  and  shadowy  mount- 
ains stand  out  clear  and  distinct ;  every  object  within  a 
range  of  many  miles  is  seen  almost  as  if  by  daylight. 
The  valley  is  one  wide,  yellow  stubble-field,  only 
broken  by  patches  of  vineyard,  long  banks  of  grain 
in  sacks,  piled  up  in  the  fields,  and  left  uncovered  for 
months  with  perfect  impunity  in  this  rainless  season; 
huge  stacks  of  straw  and  hay,  pressed  into  bales  for  the, 
market,  and  white  farm-houses,  many  of  them  very 
costly,  indicating  the  possession  of  wealth  and  taste  by 
their  proprietors.  At  intervals  we  pass  through  nat- 
ural parks,  where  the  mighty  live-oaks  are  scattered 
through  the  whole  broad  valley,  like  apple  trees  in  an 


NAPA   VALLEY. 

orchard.  The  mountains  on  either  side  of  the  valley 
grow  more  abrupt  and  rugged  as  we  advance  north- 
wards. The  deep  green  chemisal  covers  their  sides, 
save  where  they  are  patched  with  vineyards,  or  the 
white  lavatic  rock  beneath  is  laid  bare  by  long,  winding 
wagon-roads  and  bridle-trails,  leading  over  them  into 
minor  valleys  beyond. 

By  our  faith,  it  is  a  glorious  land . 

Oh,  Christ !  it  is  a  goodly  sight  to  see 

What  Heaven  has  done  for  this  delicious  land  ! 

What  fruits  of  fragrance  blush  on  every  tree — 
What  glorious  prospects  o'er  the  hills  expand  ! 

We  gaze  upon  the  swiftly- passing  panorama  for  an 
hour  in  silence,  and  then  to  turn  our  companion  on 
the  next  seat. 

"Charley,  did  you  ever  see  anything  more  beautiful 
in  your  life? " 

"Beautiful!  magnificent!  gorgeous!  sublime!  Our 
language  has  no  fitting  terms  for  it.  Why  her  eyes 
would  have  driven  Mohammed  mad — her  teeth  are 
bands  of  pearls,  and  her  blue-black  hair  would  shame-" 

'Twas  ever  thus !  We  might  have  known  it  from 
the  start.  That  Spanish  girl  has  set  him  as  mad  as  a 
March  hare.  Well,  well,  we  too  were  young  once ; 
and  come  to  think  of  it  to-night,  it  don't  seem  such 
a  very  long  time  ago  either. 

The  bell  has  been  rung,  and  the  name  of  the  station 
called  for  the  last  time,  and  a  long-drawn,  exultant 
whistle  from  the  locomotive  startles  Charley  at  last 
from  his  dream  of  Paradise  and  "  the  black-eyed  girls 
in  green,"  as  it  announces  our  arrival  at  Calistoga. 


CALISTOGA.  I7- 

Declining  the  proffered  carriage,  we  walk  down  a  wide 
avenue  into  the  hotel  grounds,  see  rows  of  neat 
cottages  stretching  away  on  either  hand,  with  families 
and  groups  lounging  on  the  piazzas,  telling  stories, 
singing,  and  mayhap  love-making  in  the  moonlight — 
enter  the  hotel,  dine  sumptuously — washing  down  our 
broiled  chicken,  trout  and  quail  with  the  rich,  fruity- 
red  wine  of  Calistoga;  and  finally,  well  pleased  with 
the  world,  ourselves,  and  mankind  in  general,  retire 
to  our  cottage,  disrobe,  draw  the  drapery  of  our  couch 
around  us,  and  lie  down  to  pleasant  dreams. 

The  noise  of  wheels  rattling  swiftly  over  the  gravel 
walks,  horses  galloping  away  to  the  mountains ;  then 
the  loud  clangor  of  the  hotel  bell,  and  the  long-drawn 
whistle  of  the  locomotive,  awaken  us  betimes  in  the 
morning.  The  sun  is  already  high  above  the  green- 
clad,  rock-capped,  rugged  mountains  on  the  eastern  side 
of  the  valley,  when  we  came  out  upon  the  piazza  to  take 
our  first  daylight  view  of  Calistoga.  It  is  glorious  ! 
Eastward,  a  long  range  of  mountains,  fantastic  in  form, 
abrupt  and  rugged,  skirts  the  whole  horizon.  A  long 
mesa,  bench,  or  table,  on  the  summit  shows  where  the 
great  river  of  lava  flowed  away  from  the  crater  south- 
ward towards  the  Bay  of  Suisun  ages  ago.  Northward 
rises,  majestically  bold  and  beautiful,  Mt.  St.  Helena, 
cutting  off  the  valley  in  that  direction.  The  foot-hills 
and  sides  of  this  mountain  are  green  in  spring  time 
and  early  summer,  and  golden  later  in  the  year,  with 
the  rank  growth  of  wild  oats,  which  covers  the  whole 
face  of  the  country  where  the  plow  has  not  disturbed 
the   soil,    up  to  the  point  where  the  old  lava -flow 


i7q  NAPA  VALLEY. 

covers  all  the  soil  and  leaves  no  room  for  vegetation. 
All  the  lower  valley  lands  are  dotted  with  huge  oaks, 
with  pensile  limbs  like  trailing  grape-vines,  which 
fairly  sweep  the  ground,  and  often  loaded  with  green- 
ish-gray moss,  which  gives  the  landscape  such  an  as- 
pect as  that  of  the  lowland  country  of  Texas  and 
Louisiana,  where  the  Creole-moss  abounds.  Higher 
up,  the  pines  and  redwoods  bristle  on  every  height, 
and  fill  every  canon,  imparting  a  sombre  grandeur  to 
the  scene.  Westward,  a  range  of  foot-hills,  densely 
covered  with  oak,  manzanita,  and  the  peerless  ma- 
drono, skirt  the  valley ;  and  back  of  them,  farther  to- 
wards the  ocean,  towers  a  higher  mountain  range, 
breaking  the  sea  breeze,  and  shielding  the  valley  from 
the  chill  ocean  fogs,  the  terror  of  visitors  to  San  Fran- 
cisco. Before  us,  at  the  foot  of  a  conical  hill,  covered 
with  grapevines,  flowering  shrubs  and  magueys  (the 
"century  plant"  of  Eastern  hot-houses),  and  sur- 
mounted with  an  oriental  summer-house,  is  the  plain 
hotel  building;  and  running  around  the  grand  rise 
which  encircles  "Mount  Lincoln,"  is  a  row  of  neat 
cottages,  each  with  its  large  yard  filled  with  flowers 
and  thrifty-growing  palm-trees  in  front.  Over  to  the 
southeast  of  the  hotel  stands  a  large  structure,  from 
the  doors  and  windows  of  which  steam  is  escaping. 
This  is  the  great  swimming-bath  house.  From  many 
points  along  the  level  ground  in  that  direction  steam 
rises  from  the  black  earth,  and  a  small  creek  of  hot 
water,  gathered  from  many  sources,  runs  away  through 
a  deep,  wide  ditch.  Mud  baths,  steam  baths,  shower 
baths,  sulphur  baths,  and  every  kind  of  bath,  in  fact, 


CHICKEN  BROTH. 


17 


are  here  provided  for  by  nature — only  the  houses  for 
hiding  the  bathers  from  general  observation  being  a 
work  of  art.     Centuries  ago,  the  unlettered  Indians 
of  the  Pacific  coast  were  accustomed  to  resort  here  to 
soak  away  rheumatism  and  the  many  ills  which  abo- 
riginal flesh  is  heir  to,  by  wallowing  in  the  hot,  black, 
sulphurous  mud,  which  boiled  and  bubbled  like  the 
witches'  broth  in  infernal  cauldrons.    Wide  grain  fields, 
trim  vineyards,  and  tea  plantations  spread  away  in  all 
directions  from  the  hamlet  which  surrounds  the  hotel. 
The    proprietor  of  all  this  magnificent — I   may  say 
princely — estate  of  Calistoga,  is  Samuel  Brannan,  one 
of  the  most  enterprising  of  the  early  business  men  of 
the  Pacific  coast.     Pie  has  recently  disposed  of  all 
his  productive  property  in  the  heart  of  San  Francisco, 
and  come  here  to  make  his  homeland  devote  the  au- 
tumn   of  life  to  building  up   as  a  monument  of  his 
energy,  taste  and  public  spirit,  the  great  health  and 
pleasure  resort  of  California.     The  soil  is  wonderfully 
productive ;  the  air  in  autumn,  winter,  and  early  spring 
pure  and  bracing;  in  summer  tropical;  the  mountains 
round  about  are  filled  with  attractions  for  the  tourist 
and  pleasure-seeker,  and  altogether  Calistoga  is  one 
of  the  pet  institutions  of  California.     Just  across  the 
way  from  the  hotel  piazza  is  a  little  house,  enclosing  a 
spring  of  peculiar  character.     The  water  is  clear  as 
crystal,   scalding  hot,  and  impregnated  with  mineral 
substances  of  wonderfully  health-restoring  properties. 
A  dash  of  salt  and  pepper  causes  a  bowl  of  it  to  be- 
come, so  far  as  sight,  taste  and  smell  can  distinguish, 
the  exact  counterpart  of  fresh  chicken  broth.     Many 


j  ~£  NAPA   VALLEY. 

an  invalid  has  swallowed  a  bowlful  of  it  with  keen 
relish,  and  then  learned  with  indignant  surprise  that 
the  soup  was  cooked  in  the  reeking  kitchen  of  his 
Satanic  Majesty  down  deep  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
and  was  as  innocent  of  any  contact  with  even  the 
shadow  of  terrestrial  chicken  as  any  you  could  obtain 
at  the  best  hotel  in  Saratoga,  or  the  most  fashionable 
boarding-house  in  New  York.  An  iron  pipe  has  been 
driven  down  deep  into  the  earth  at  this  point,  and  on 
letting  down  some  fresh  eggs  in  an  open-work  wire 
cage  through  the  tube,  you  can  have  them  hard  boiled 
in  Nature's  kettle  inside  of  three  minutes. 

In  front  of  the  hotel  stands  a  curious  rude  orotto  or 

o 

summer-house,  apparently  composed  wholly  of  short 
sections  of  tree-trunks,  unhewn  and  rough,  placed 
endwise  one  upon  another.  A  closer  inspection  re- 
veals the  fact  that  the  trees  from  which  these  sections 
were  broken  were  of  solid  stone.  Asfes  and  ao-es  aa-o 
there  stood  upon  the  summit  of  one  of  the  mountain 
ridges  on  the  west  of  the  valley,  some  seven  miles 
from  the  present  site  of  Calistoga,  a  grove  of  great 
redwood  trees,  which,  by  some  process  of  nature, 
became  changed  into  stone,  mo,re  enduring  and  perma- 
nent than  the  "  everlasting  hills"  themselves.  For 
years  the  fact  of  the  existence  of  this  phenomenon 
was  unknown  to  the  residents  of  the  vicinity,  the 
thick  chapparal  effectually  hiding  the  fallen  trunks 
from  view.  In  1870,  one  of  the  terribly  destructive 
fires  which  sweep  over  the  mountains  of  California 
and  Oregon  year  after  year,  laid  bare  the  summit 
of  this  hill  range,  and  the  ground  was  found  strewn 


THE  PETRIFIED  FOREST.  lyg 

with  the  petrified  trunks  of  giant  trees,  at  intervals  for 
several  miles.  This  locality  is  now  the  subject  of 
much  curious  investigation,  and  the  origin  of  the  "Pet- 
rified Forest  of  Calistoga"  has  been  speculated  upon 
learnedly  by  many  scientists.  The  wood  retains  its 
grain  perfectly,  no  difficulty  being  found  in  counting 
the  consecutive  rings  supposed  to  indicate  the  years 
of  growth  of  each  fallen  giant  of  the  forest.  The 
color  is  a  whitey-brown,  and  there  are  occasional  lay- 
ers of  clear  white  quartz  in  small  crystals,  apparently 
the  result  of  water  deposits.  Evidences  of  remote 
volcanic  action  abound  in  the  vicinity,  the  whole  sur- 
face of  the  ground  being  composed,  in  fact,  of  tufa, 
ashes,  and  coarse,  broken  sandstone,  mixed  with  meta- 
morphic  rock,  ascribed  to  the  cretaceous  age,  and 
indicating  disturbance  by  severe  earthquakes  or  vol- 
canic convulsions  of  a  comparatively  recent  date.  None 
of  the  trees  are  perfect — only  the  trunks  and  main 
roots  appearing  to  have  been  petrified — and  all  are  ly- 
*ng  flat  upon  the  ground,  or  half  buried  in  it,  scattered 
and  broken,  as  if  blown  down  by  a  sudden  gale  or 
whirlwind.  Some  of  the  trunks  are  from  fifty  to  seven- 
ty-five feet  in  length,  and  nearly  perfect,  and  others 
mere  stumps  and  fragments,  from  ten  to  thirty  feet 
long.  Tourists  visit  the  locality  almost  daily,  and 
sample  the  trees  so  freely  that  a  few  years  will  suffice 
to  obliterate  all  traces  of  the  now  famous  grove.  The 
stone  takes  a  fine  polish,  and  is  much  prized  for  seal- 
rings  and  jewelry. 

Professor  Marsh,  of  Yale  College,  who  examined 
the  petrifaction,  on  the  ground,  in  1870,  came  to  the 


To~  NArA   VALLEY. 


conclusion  that  the  trees  had  first  been  overthrown  by 
earthquake  force,  and  buried  beneath  the  debris  from 
some  ancient  eruption  of  Mount  St.  Helena,  the  sum- 
mit of  which  is  fully  ten  miles  distant  in  a  northeastern 
direction  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley ;  then  petri- 
fied by  the  action  of  acids  contained  in  these  volcanic 
deposits,  and  in  the  lapse  of  time  again  uncovered  by 
the  wearing  away  of  the  overlaying  tufa  by  the  action 
of  the  rains  and  storms.  There  are  grave  difficulties 
in  the  way  of  the  acceptance  of  this  theory.  The 
locality  is  situated  at  an  elevation  of  not  less  than 
2,000  feet  above  the  sea,  and  from  1,000  to  1,200 
feet  above  the  valley  which  intervenes  between  these 
hills  and  the  mountain  from  whence  the  volcanic  mat- 
ter is  supposed  to  have  come. 

I  hazard  a  purely  unprofessional  and  gratuitous  sug- 
gestion, that  the  trees  were  gradually  petrified  while 
they  were  yet  upright  and  living,  through  the  slow 
absorption  at  the  roots  of  silic  acid,  which  exuded 
from  the  rocks  beneath  and  impregnated  the  soil 
around  them.  As  the  process  of  petrifaction  pro- 
gressed and  extended  upwards,  the  trees  became  top- 
heavy,  and  fell  over  from  their  own  weight,  the  roots 
having  become  too  brittle  through  decay  or  petrifac- 
tion to  assist  in  sustaining  them  in  their  natural  erect 
position.  The  fact  that  the  roots  and  lower  parts  of 
the  trunks  only  were  petrified — no  fragments  of  the 
boughs  are  to  be  found — strengthens  this  last  hypoth- 
esis. However,  there  is  nothing  on  earth  so  cheap 
as  theories — certainly  nothing  more  worthless — and 
the  reader  can  take  his  choice,  or  reject  them  all  and 


A  PAYING  THE OR Y.  jgj 

form  one  of  his  own,  if  he  pleases.     On  the  whole,  it 
is  quite  likely  that  he  or  she  will  get  along  just  as  well 
without  any  theory  whatever — the  petrified  trees  are 
there    anyhow — and   in   doing  so,   save   himself  and 
mankind  generally  a  world  of  trouble.     I  have  ob- 
served in  my  capacity  as  a  journalist,  that  the  detective 
or  other  officer  who  forms  a  theory  in  regard  to  the 
perpetration  of  a  crime,  invariably  warps  all  the  facts 
to   accommodate  them   to   that  theory,  and  in   nine 
cases    out  of  ten  ends  by  going  wide  of  the  truth, 
and   having-  the   mortification    of  seeing  some  dull- 
headed,  non-theorizing  plodder  carry  off  the  reward 
for  the  discovery  of  the  criminal.     As  a  rule,  what  is 
cheap  is  not  worth  having  at  any  price,  and  the  mere 
fact  that  a  theory  on  any  subject  costs  nothing  at  the 
start,  is  rather  against  it  than  otherwise.     I  used  to 
have  theories  on  politics  and  religion  and  social  econ- 
omy years  ago,  but  I  found  that  they  kept  me  in  hot 
water  all  the  time,  so  I  discarded  them  all,  and  have 
had  abundant  reason  to  thank  a  merciful  Providence 
for  having   done   so.     As  a  rule,  theories  don't  pay. 
It  is  true  there  are  exceptions.     I  once  knew  a  famous 
southern  journalist  who  retired   from   the  pursuit  of 
his  profession,  and  settled  down  as  a  theoretical  and 
practical  sheep-raiser,  in  Coural  county,  Texas.     He 
had  a  theory.     It  was,  that  the  sure  road  to  fortune 
—  for  others — lay  in  buying  blooded  sheep  for  im- 
proving the  native  breed.    He  succeeded  in  convincing 
his  fellow-citizens  of  the  Lone  Star  State  of  the  truth 
of  this  theory,  and  became  rich  by  selling  them  the 
sheep  at  round  prices.     But  you  will  readily  observe 


jg2  NAPA  VALLEY. 

that  he  ran  his  theory,  instead  of  following  the  usual 
custom,  and  allowing  his  theory  to  run  him.  Most 
people  are  run  by  their  theories,  and  fail.  Having 
never  been  able  to  sell  my  theories  to  others,  and  be- 
ing determined  not  to  buy  any,  or  keep  any  on  hand, 
I  have  retired  from  the  theory  business  entirely,  and 
do  not  propose  to  go  back  to  it. 

The  road  leading  up  to  the  Petrified  Forest  from 
Calistoga  is  a  romantic  and  beautiful  one,  and  the  trip 
on  a  pleasant  morning  or  evening  in  the  early  spring- 
time, when  the  hills  are  clad  in  vivid  green,  and 
the  manzanita  and  the  madrono  are  in  blossom,  load- 
ing all  the  air  with  their  sensuous  fragrance,  is  one  to 
be  enjoyed  to  the  utmost,  and  ever  after  remembered 
with  pleasure. 

"  There  is  no  beauty  in  star  or  blossom 
Till  looked  upon  with  a  loving  eye  ; 
There  is  no  fragrance  in  spring-time  breezes 
Till  breathed  with  joy  as  they  wander  by." 

Beautiful  for  aye  to  me  are  the  stars  which  look 
down  in  their  glory  on  this  valley  and  these  moun- 
tains ;  more  fragrant  than  the  winds  from  the  sweet 
south,  which  have  passed  over  "the  Gardens  of  Gul 
in  their  bloom,"  are  the  soft  breezes  which  I  have  here 
breathed  with  a  tender  joy  unutterable. 

A  two- mile  ride  through  the  fertile  valley  takes 
one  to  the  foot  of  Mount  St.  Helena,  and  a  winding 
carriage-road,  supplemented  by  a  bridle-path,  leads 
thence  to  the  summit  of  the  grand  old  mountain.  The 
tourists  who  every  summer  are  whirled  through  this 
valley  up  to  the  Geysers  and  back  again  in  hot  haste, 
vainly   imagining  that  they  are   seeing,    when   they 


VIEW  FROM  MT.    ST.   HELENA.  jg- 

are  in  truth  only  "doing-"  California,  know  not 
what  a  treat  they  are  missing  in  passing  by  Mount  St. 
Helena  without  ascending  it.  The  mountain  rises 
only  4,345  feet  above  the  sea,  its  altitude  being  really 
less  than  that  of  Mount  Washington,  in  New  Hamp- 
shire, but  it  so  far  overtops  the  surrounding  hills  and 
lesser  mountains,  that  the  view  from  its  summit  is 
grand  and  extended  beyond  the  power  of  words  to 
depict.  From  the  broad  Pacific  on  the  west,  to  the 
snow-capped  Sierra  Nevada,  which  skirts  the  whole 
eastern  horizon,  and  from  San  Francisco  and  the 
mountains  of  San  Mateo,  Alameda,  and  Santa  Clara 
in  the  south,  to  the  Black  Buttes  of  Marysville  and  the 
valley  of  Russian  River,  the  redwood  forests  of  Men- 
docino and  Sonoma,  and  the  high  mountain  country 
of  the  Lakes  on  the  northeast,  northwest  and  north, 
the  view  is  unbroken  and  uninterrupted,  save  by  the 
isolated  peaks  of  Mount  Diablo,  Tamalpais,  and  a  few 
lesser  landmarks  of  the  Golden  Land.  The  view  from 
the  summit  of  Tamalpais  is  worth  a  journey  from  Eu- 
rope to  behold — that  from  St.  Helena  is  worth  a  hun- 
dred of  it.  To  the  stranger  there  is  enchantment  in 
the  scene ;  to  the  old  Californian,  history,  romance, 
suggestive  memories,  in  every  feature  of  the  scene. 
Look  over  there  to  the  eastward  beyond  the  inter- 
vening coast-range  foot-hills  into  the  valley  of  the 
Sacramento!  Who,  standing  here  and  looking  down 
for  the  first  time  upon  that  broad,  straw-colored  val- 
ley, dry  as  the  dust  of  the  highway,  and  glimmering  in 
the  hot  sunshine,  would  believe  that  a  few  years  since 
it  was  one  wide  sea  of  turbid  waters,  forty  miles  from 


jg.  NAPA   VALLEY. 

bank  to  bank,  and  stretching  from  the  Bay  of"  Suisun 
to  the  Black  Buttes  of  Marysville  and  beyond  ?  Yet 
such  it  was.  In  the  winter  of  1 86 1-2,  steamers  went 
twenty  miles  inland  from  the  banks  of  the  Sacramento, 
and  from  tree-tops,  hay-stacks,  and  the  roofs  of  houses 
and  barns,  or  fixed  rafts  constructed  of  house  and 
fence  materials,  rescued  hundreds  of  families  who 
otherwise  must  have  perished  in  the  raging  floods. 
Those  were  indeed  dark  days  for  the  dwellers  in  the 
valley  of  the  Sacramento,  and  it  seemed  for  a  time 
that  the  whole  country  must  be  abandoned  forever  by 
man.  For  more  than  forty  days  and  forty  nights  the 
windows  of  Heaven  were  opened,  and  the  rain  poured 
down  almost  incessantly.  San  Francisco  was  filled 
with  refugees,  supported  by  the  charity  of  her  citizens; 
and  all  the  towns  of  the  valley  country  were  flooded, 
or  saved  from  destruction  only  by  incessant  labor 
upon  their  levees. 

In  those  days  people  joked  and  laughed  in  the 
midst  of  their  misfortunes  with  true  California  humor. 
Well  do  I  remember  hearing  a  party  of  the  "drowned 
out,"  standing  on  the  deck  of  a  steamer  which  was 
carrying  them  to  San  Francisco,  and  relating  with 
grim  facetiousness  the  mishaps  and  adventures  of  the 
hour.  One  rough-bearded  fellow,  with  a  pale,  shrink- 
ing, feeble  woman  by  his  side,  and  a  half- clad,  sick 
child  in  his  arms,  told  how,  while  the  family  were 
clinging  to  the  boughs  of  a  tree  just  above  the  surg- 
ing waters,  they  saw  a  house  going  swiftly  down  the 
stream,  with  a  Chinaman  sitting  quietly  astride  the 
rid^e  of  the   roof.     "Halloa,   John!    where   are  you 


WATER,    WATER,  EVERYWHERE,  ETC.  jg- 

bound  for?"  called  out  one  of  the  party  as  John  was 
swept  swiftly  past.  "Me  no  shabbe!"  was  John's 
prompt  but  half-despairing-  reply.  Let  us  hope  that 
he  brought  up  in  some  safe  harbor  at  last.  Another 
of  the  group  told,  with  an  evident  hearty  relish  and 
keen  appeciation  cf  the  absurdity  of  the  matter,  how 
he  had  passed  on  a  raft  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  a 
country  house,  which,  firmly  anchored  to  two  giant 
trees,  held  its  own  stiffly  against  the  flood.  The  water 
stood  four  feet  deep  on  the  ground  floor,  and  the 
children  were  looking  composedly  out  of  the  chamber 
window  at  the  old  lady,  who,  armed  with  a  long  pole, 
was  wading  around  armpit  deep  in  the  water  some 
distance  from  the  house.  From  time  to  time,  she 
would  turn  the  end  of  the  pole  downwards  and  feel 
about  in  the  water  for  something.  The  party  on  the 
raft  hailed  her  to  know  if  any  of  her  family  had  been 
drowned,  intending  if  such  was  the  case  to  offer  to 
stop  and  help  her  search  for  the  body.  "  No,  thank 
you ;  family  all  safe,  but  the  child' n  is  terribly  dry, 
an'  I  never  like  to  let  'em  drink  river  water,  'cause  its 
so  agery,  an'  I'm  jest  try  in'  to  find  the  confounded 
well.  If  I  don't  think  hit's  gone  an'  floated  away, 
drown  me,  stranger;  an'  it  cost  us  a  heap  o' money!" 
was  the  poor  distressed  woman's  half-despairing  re- 
ply. This  prejudice  against  river  water  is  doubtless 
to  some  extent  justifiable,  as,  in  the  summer  season,  the 
amount  of  vegetable  matter  held  in  solution  in  it  must 
be  considerable ;  nevertheless,  I  incline  to  the  im- 
pression that  the  old  lady  was  rather  running  it  into 
the  ground  under  all  the  circumstances. 


j  55  NAPA  VALLEY. 

Away  over  there  in  the  northwest,  among  the 
forest-clad  hills  which  skirt  the  Valley  of  Russian 
River,  is  the  favorite  stamping-ground  of  certain  ama- 
teur hunters  and  fishermen  from  San  Francisco :  mem- 
bers of  the  bar  and  occupants  of  the  bench,  who  come 
here  to  spend  the  summer  vacation,  "camping  out," 
roughing  it,  shooting,  fishing,  swapping  anecdotes  by 
the  blazing  camp-fires  far  into  the  glorious  nights,  and 
growing  little  poorer  in  pocket,  while  growing  rich  to 
abundance  in  the  health,  strength,  and  elasticity  of  spirit 
which  they  carry  back  to  the  city  with  them.     Judge 

,  of  the  U.  S. Court,  in  San  Francisco, 

is  one  of  these  choice  spirits.  He  is  as  captivating  a 
talker  as  you  may  meet  in  many  a  long  year's  jour- 
ney ings  around  this  sinful  world.  His  fame  has  gone 
out  through  the  land,  and  everybody  now  knows  him 
by  sight,  or  reputation  at  least.  It  was  different  years 
ago.  Once  upon  a  time,  a  party  of  these  city  sports 
were  camping  in  the  mountains,  and  having  a  jolly 
good  time.  One  evening  a  stranger  came  into  camp, 
and  as  he  appeared  to  be  a  nice,  quiet,  sociable,  intel- 
ligent gentleman,  he  was  made  free  to  everything 
for  the  night.  He  soon  showed  himself  not  only  a 
good  story-teller,  but  something  still  dearer  to  the 
Judge's  heart — a  good  listener.  After  supper,  he 
seated  himself  upon  a  log  before  the  blazing  camp-fire, 
and  the  Judge,  placing  himself  between  him  and  the 
fire,  crossed  his  hands  under  his  coat-tails,  bent  his 
face  in  close  proximity  to  that  of  his  victim,  and  went 
for  him  for  all  he  was  worth.  An  hour — two,  three 
hours  passed,  and  still  the  Judge  talked  on  ;  and  still 


"PRESENTLY,    SIR;    PRESENTLY:'  jg- 

the  stranger  maintained  his  position,  holding  on  to 
the  .log  with  both  hands,  and  looking  his  honor  fix- 
edly in  the  face.  One  of  the  party  called  another  to 
one  side,  and  said  to  him  anxiously:  "For  Heaven's 
sake,  call  the  Judge  off,  or  we  won't  sleep  a  wink 
to-night."  Number  two  approached  the  Judge  quietly' 
pulled  him  by  the  sleeve,  and  said : 

"See  here,  Judge,  I  have  something  that  I  would 
like  to  speak  to  you  about  for  a  few  moments!  " 

"Presently!'' 

An  hour  passed  and  the  manoeuvre  was  repeated, 
with  the  same  reply — 

"Presently!" 

Another  hour,  and  another  member  tried  it  on. 

"Presently,  sir;  presently,  I  tell  you!"  was  the 
Judge's  somewhat  impatient  reply. 

Another  and  another  tried  it  with  like  success,  or 
want  of  success,  and  at  last  all  gave  it  up  and  turned 
into  their  welcome  blankets.  All  through  the  weary 
night  the  party  turned  uneasily  in  their  blankets  from 
time  to  time,  and  still  heard  the  Judge  going  on — -and 
on — and  on — the  stream  of  talk  flowing  as  steadily 
and  remorselessly  as  the  stream  of  Time,  which 
singeth  as  it  flows — 

"And  men  may  come,  and  men  may  go, 
But  I  go  on  forever." 

Morning  broke  over  the  grey  mountains  at  last, 
and  the  party  arose  to  prepare  for  breakfast.  The 
fire  had  gone  out,  but  the  Judge  stood  there  as  he 
had  been  standing  on  the  evening  before,  with  his 
hands  clasped   behind   him,  his    back  bent  towards 


iSS 


NAPA   VALLEY. 


where  the  fire  had  been,  and  his  face  toward  the  foe — - 
still  talking  on — and  on — and  on.  And  the  stranger? 
He  sat  there  still,  with  his  eyes  fixed  in  a  du'l,  stony 
stare  straight  in  the  Judge's  face — mad,  hopelessly 
mad!  They  pulled  the  Judge  away  by  main  force, 
and  compelled  him  to  notice  the  condition  of  his  vic- 
tim, something  he  had  utterly  omitted  to  do  before. 
It  was  too  late ;  reason  had  given  way  at  last  before 
the  terrible  strain,  and  she  never  recovered  her  throne. 
To  this  day,  a  grey-haired,  quiet,  hopelessly-afflicted 
patient  wanders  around  in  the  public  ward  of  the  In- 
sane Asylum  at  Stockton,  looking  with  a  fixed,  stony 
stare  before  him,  and  never  speaking  to  any  human 
being ;  only  at  long  intervals  muttering  half  incoher- 
ently, "Presently,  presently!"  while  the  Judge  goes 
on  the  even  tenor  of  his  way,  dealing  out  justice  to 
his  fellow-men,  and  sleeping  at  nights  like  a  Christian 
— when  he  has  nobody  to  talk  to. 

Years  passed  on,  and  the  "road  agents"  who  had 
long  made  it  lively  for  the  travelers  and  expressmen 
in  the  Sierra  Nevada  and  the  gold  districts  of  the 
foothill  country  of  California,  finding  the  old  stamping- 
ground  becoming  comparatively  unproductive,  shifted 
their  base  of  operations  over  to  the  western  and  south- 
ern parts  of  the  State,  and  set  to  work  with  fresh 
energy  to  gain  a  livelihood  by  the  industrious  prac- 
tice of  their  profession.  In  the  spring  and  summer 
of  1 87 1  they  affected  Sonoma  county  to  a  disagree- 
able extent,  and  cleaned  out  stage-load  after  stage-load 
over  there  in  the  northwest,  about  Cloverdale.  You 
can  see  the  road  with  the  glass,  there  where  it  winds 


STAND  AND  DELIVER.  j  gQ 

over  the  divide  coming  out  of  the  Russian  River  Val- 
ley. One  night  in  August  a  party  of  San  Franciscans 
went  up  the  valley  from  Santa  Rosa,  bound  on  a 
hunting  expedition  into  the 'mountains,  and  the  gen- 
tlemen of  the  road,  mistaking  their  ambulance  for  the 
regular  stage,  came  quietly  out  into  the  road  from  the 
dusty  chapparal  on  either  side,  like  so  many  ghosts,  in 
slouched  hats  and  black  crape  veils,  and  presenting 
their  shot-guns,  ordered  the  party  to  stand  and  deliver. 
The  party,  never  dreaming  of  such  a  misadventure, 
had  their  guns  all  stowed  away  in  their  cases  in  the 
bottom  of  the  carriage,  and  were  in  no  condition  to 
resist.  The  beau  and  wit  of  the  party  arose,  and  with 
a  deprecatory  gesture  commenced  to  address  the 
veiled  figures  before  him : 

"Gentlemen,  I  regret  to  disappoint  you  and  give 
you  so  much  unnecessary  trouble,  but  the  fact  is,  you 
have  made  a  trifling  mistake.  This  isn't  a  stage.  We 
are  a  party  of  peaceful  citizens  bound  on  a  hunting 
and  fishing  expedition,  and  haven't  got  so  much  as  a 
dollar  in  cash,  a  watch  or  a  ring  in  the  party.  We 
don't  carry  'em  when  we  go  on  such  a  trip.  It  isn't 
safe.     You  know  how  it  is  yourselves  !" 

"Oh,  cut  it  short!  Save  the  rest  for  the  next 
party.  Git  down  there  d — d  quick!"  was  the  em- 
phatic remark  of  the  leader  of  the  gang.  The  beau 
and  wit  got  down  in  despair,  and  held  up  his  hands. 
Then  a  woe-begone  visage  was  protruded  from  the 
side  of  the  vehicle,  and  in  solemn,  sepulchral  accents, 
a  new  address  commenced  as  follows : 

"  Gentlemen,  it  is  not  often  that  I  am  called  upon 


Igo  NAPA  VALLEY. 

to  make  any  remarks  in  a  case  like  this.  It  seems  to 
me  that  the  matter  may  be  stated  briefly  as  follows : 
Firstly,  the " 

11  Great  G — d,  boys!"»fairly  yelled  the  leader,  as  he 

recognized  his  man,  "if  this  ain't  old  Judge , 

I'll  be  d — d!  Let's  get;  for  if  he  gets  to  talking  to 
us,  we'll  die  rigfht  here  of  old  aije  or  starvation!"  and 
in  half  the  time  it  would  take  me  to  tell  it,  the  whole 
gang  broke,  as  from  the  presence  of  the  cholera,  and 
disappeared  in  the  chaparral  from  whence  they  came, 
never  halting  even  to  say  good-by. 

That  reminds  me  of  the  fellow  who  came  up  to  me 
with  an  Apache  arrow  sticking  in  his  back,  on  the 
Skull  Valley  road,  in  Central  Arizona.     He 

It  pains  me  to  be  compelled  to  cut  that  story  short 
at  the  above  point,  but  love  of  truth  impels  me  to  say 
that  I  never  had  an  opportunity  of  finishing  it  in  the 
presence  of  that  company.  Just  as  I  started  to  tell 
what  the  poor  fellow  did,  I  heard  one  of  the  party  re- 
mark to  another,  "  No  insane  asylum  in  mine,  if  I 
know  it!"  and  a  moment  after  observed  them  all,  one 
by  one,  my  beloved  and  trusted  companions,  crawling 
off  over  the  rocks,  like  so  many  skulking  Apaches,  to- 
ward the  spot  where  the  horses  were  tied.  When  I 
overtook  them,  just  as  they  were  getting  into  their 
saddles,  they  assured  me  that  they  always  liked  that 
story  about  the  Judge.  They  considered  it  "very 
neat  and  very  appropriate."  Well,  so  they  did,  and 
so  do  I ;  but  I  cursed  in  my  heart  the  set  of  over- 
appreckitive  wretches  who  could  draw  a  moral  so  fine, 
and  put  it  in   practice  so  suddenly.      I  like  fun ;  but 


A    TALE   SPOILED.  .         IQI 

practical  jokes  and  practical  jokers  I  detest.  I  was 
so  disgusted  that  I  never  looked  behind  me  to  see 
what  else  was  to  be  seen  from  the  summit  of  Mount 
St.  Helena,  and  in  sorrow  and  in  silence  rode  away 
down  the  mountain  to  Calistoga  ajrain. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

WAITING    UNDER   THE    MADRONO. 

Dreaming  of  the  Tropics  again. — The  Honey-Bee  in  California. — A  Good  Joke 
on  the  Bear. — In  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow. — Nina  Hermosa. — On  the  Red 
Desert. — Fair  Alfaretto. — Burning  the  Mezquites. — The  Curse  of  the  White 
Man. — A  Wild  Night's  Ride  in  the  Sierra. 

Here,  under  the  great  Madrono,  on  the  gently- 
sloping  hillside  we,  the  trout-fishing  party,  the  Doc- 
tor, with  his  Henry  rifle,  moodily  bent  on  somebody 
or  something,  he  cares  little  what,  so  that  it  is  large 
and  dangerous — a  grizzly,  if  he  can  find  him ;  a  Cal- 
ifornia lion,  if  one  comes  in  his  way;  a  wild-cat,  or 
an  eagle,  if  nothing  better  offers;  or  possibly,  by  the 
rarest  good  fortune,  a  specimen  of  the  mighty  mount- 
ain vulture  of  California,  first  cousin  to  and  almost 
the  counterpart  of  the  giant  condor  of  the  Andes — 
and  myself,  less  aspiring  hunter  after  pigeons,  and 
such  small  game,  were  to  meet  and  lunch  after  our 
mornino-'s  wanderings  in  the  mountains.  "  I  am 
either  the  first  man  up,  or  blamedly  belated  !"  re- 
marked the  incorrigible  drunkard,  as  he  awoke  in  the 
coffin,  in  which  his  appreciative  friends,  by  way  of 
experiment,  had  conveyed  him  to  the  cemetery  and 
left  him  beside  a  new-made  grave;  sat  up,  rubbed  his 
eyes,  and  looked  around  him  under  the  impression 

(  l92  ) 


THE  FIRST  MAN   UP.  1Q? 

that  the  last  trumpet  had  blown,  and  the  dead  of  all 
time  were  called  upon  to  come  forth  in  response. 
There  is  no  one  else  in  sight,  and  I  see  no  chicken 
bones,  empty  champagne  bottles,  or  other  "sign"  of 
a  lunch  party  having  been  here.  On  the  whole,  I 
think  I  must  be  the  first  man  up  on  this  occasion. 
I  wonder  where  that  Bill  is  with  the  lunch  basket  ? 
It  is  barely  half-past  twelve  o'clock,  but  I  was  off 
at  daybreak,  and  climbing  rocky  mountain  sides,  and 
pushing  through  tangled  chaparral  and  the  blackened 
stumps  of  thickets,  run  through  and  killed  by  last 
autumn's  fires,  is  tiresome  work,  especially  when  the 
few  pigeons  you  see  keep  half  a  mile  out  of  the  way, 
beyond  the  reach  of  a  gun,  as  they  have  done  with 
me  all  this  morning.  I  would  like  to  see  Bill  about 
this  time.  Hall-o-o-o-o-o-a !  Hall-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-a  ! 
No  response.  Well,  this  is  a  nice  place  for  a  quiet 
nap  any  way,  and  the  air  is  just  warm  and  soft  enough 
to  make  it  a  luxury.     I  will  improve  my  time. 

"  Ah  me  ! 
The  hours  o'er  which  we  have  least  cause  to  weep 
Are  those  we  pass  in  childhood,  or  in  sleep." 

The  first  haven't  come  my  way  of  late,  but  I  can  put 
in  as  square  a  day's  work  at  the  last  as  any  man  I 
have  ever  met  yet.  The  Madrono  boughs  are  loaded 
down  with  great,  fleecy  masses  of  creamy- white,  bell- 
shaped  blossoms,  fragrant  as  the  magnolia,  and  I  see 
the  black  and  yellow  honey-bees  swarming  over 
them,  while  their  low,  steady  humming  falls  with  a 
soothing  effect  upon  my  drowsy  ear.  Even  so  I 
listened  to  and  listlessly  watched  them,  as  I  sat  be- 


194 


WISE  BEES. 


neath  the  cocoa  palms  and  breathed  the  fragrance  of 
the  orange  and  primavera  blossoms  at  La  Calera. 
Every  flower  gives  its  own  distinct  flavor  to  the 
honey  gathered  from  it.  The  orange-flower  honey 
of  Orizaba  is  fit  to  grace  the  table  of  the  gods.  I 
wish  I  had  a  little  of  it  now,  with  some  nice  warm  bis- 
cuits, such  as  my  mother  used  to  make  for  me.  This 
madroiio- flower  honey  ought  to  be  delicious!  I 
wonder  if  the  bears  of  California  have  found  out  how 
good  it  is  !  The  honey  bee  came  to  California  with 
the  Yankees,  but  the  American  variety  soon  found 
out  that  they  could  get  along  with  next  to  nothing  in 
the  shape  of  a  winter  store,  and  so  in  a  few  years 
they  took  to  loafing  all  summer,  and  shifting  for 
themselves  as  best  they  might  during  the  rainy  sea- 
son, leaving  no  margin  for  profit  for  their  owners, 
who,  after  paying  fabulous  prices  for  them,  were 
obliged  to  turn  them  adrift  and  import  Italian  bees  to 
take  their  places.  Singularly  enough,  the  yellow 
rascals,  as  soon  as  they  were  independent,  and  under 
no  obligation  to  work  for  anybody  else,  took  to  the 
mountains,  and  went  to  work  with  a  will  on  their  own 
hook.  They  have  now  spread  through  the  whole 
State;  and  in  some  localities,  as  in  San  Bernardino 
and  Los  Angeles  counties,  bee -hunting,  for  their 
stores  of  delicious  honey,  has  become  a  regular  and 
profitable  business. 

If  the  California  bears  have  not  found  out  how 
good  the  honey  is,  the  fact  does  no  credit  to  their 
intelligence.  In  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi  the 
bear  is  the  wild  bees'-  most  persistent  enemy.     But 


BEAR    VERSUS  BEES.  jgr 

the  bees  sometimes  make  it  very  lively  for  him.  I 
remember  an  old  Arkansas  hunter  who  told  with  in- 
finite gusto  one  anecdote  in  point.  Said  he:  "I  had 
heard  an  angry  growling  and  snapping  in  the  bushes, 
and  I  knowed  that  a  bar  was  thar  and  in  trouble;  but 
for  the  soul  of  me  I  couldn't  make  out  what  it  was. 
I  allowed  that  perhaps  he  might  have  got  a  bullet 
into  him,  and  was  tryin'  to  work  it  out  by  mouthing 
it ;  bar  will  do  that  sometimes  ;  so  I  just  crawled  like  a 
cat  through  the  underbrush  for  about  ten  rods,  pulling 
old  Grim — that's  what  I  used  to  call  my  old  Kaintuck 
rifle  for  short — after  me,  and  going  mighty  cautious, 
not  to  be  heard.  The  growlin'  and  snappin'  kept  up 
all  the  time,  and  it  was  no  trouble  to  find  the  right 
place.  Jest  when  I  got  to  the  edge  of  the  brush,  I 
looked  out  into  a  little  open  space  whar  thar  was 
no  bushes,  and  right  in  the  middle  of  it  I  seen  a  bar 
sittin'  on  a  bee-gum  that  had  been  blowed  down  and 
split  open,  and  jest  shovelin'  the  honey  into  his  mouth, 
hand  over  hand.  The  bees  they  was  as  thick  as  hair  on  a 
dog's  back,  all  around  and  over  him,  and  the  way  they 
was  puttin'  in  their  best  licks  in  the  way  of  stingin' 
him  onto  the  nose  and  around  the  eyes  and  mouth, 
was  a  caution  to  snakes,  you  bet.  Every  time  he 
shoveled  a  handfull  of  honey  into  his  face  he  would  give 
a  growl  and  a  slap  or  two  at  the  bees.  Arter  a  while, 
he  reached  forard  a  little  more  nor  usual,  and  the  bees 
seen  a  bare  spot  on  his  rump — bars  has  a  bare  spot 
on  their  rump  generally,  whar  they  wears  the  har  oft, 
sittin'  down  and  turnin'  round — and  they  went  for  it, 
for  all  there  was  in  sight.     This  startled  him  like,  and 


rg5  WAITING    UNDER    THE  MADRONO. 

in  tryin'  to  whirl  around,  so  as  to  get  a  good  grab  at 
'em,  he  fell  off  the  log  heels  over  head.  He  rolled 
over  and  over  on  the  ground  three  or  four  times,  and 
then  jumped  back  on  the  log  and  went  for  the  honey, 
uglier  nor  ever.  I  thought  I  had  had  fun  enough  watchin' 
on  him  up  to  that  time,  and  I  had  better  save  him  and 
the  rest  of  the  honey  at  the  same  time.  So  I  jest 
drawed  a  bead  on  him  with  old  Grim,  and  he  rolled 
off  that  bee-gum  deader  nor  he'd  been  struck  by  light- 
nin'.  And  would  you  believe  it,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
that  d — d  bar  never  seen  me  at  all,  but  thinks  to  this 
minnit  that 'twas  them  ar  bees  that  stung  him  to  death! " 
Up  from  the  depths  of  the  deep  canon,  over  on  the 
other  side  of  the  narrow  valley,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
comes  a  long-drawn  bugle-call,  and  I  turn  drowsily 
over  and  gaze  in  that  direction,  half  impressed  with 
the  idea  that  I  shall  see  again  the  long-drawn  lines  and 
glancing  arms  of  the  Guard  of  Jalisco  filing  through 
the  barrancas  at  the  foot  of  the  volcano  of  Colima. 
But  there  rises  no  smoke  from  the  summit  of  yonder 
mountain — the  volcanic  fires  died  out  ages  and  ages 
ago  in  the  crater  of  St.  Helena,  and  I  look  in  vain 
down  the  winding  valley  for  the  green  palanquin,  with 
the  grey- haired  statesman  and  wanderer  in  many 
lands,  borne  by  white- clad  Aztecs,  and  the  gallant 
Zomeli,  the  beau  sabrcur  of  Guadalajara,  riding  at 
the  head  of  his  squadrons  of  swarthy  horsemen.  I 
am  not  in  the  tropics  after  all,  though  dreaming  of 
them;  and  it  is  the  madrono,  not  the  palm,  whose 
green  leaves  rustle  so  gently  in  the  sweet  spring  air 
above  me. 


DEMORALIZA  TION. 


197 


I  wonder  where  Bill  can  be.  I  could  stand  the  loss 
of  the  rest  of  the  party,  but  he  is-  my  friend  indeed,  or 
would  be  if  I  could  see  him.  If  I  thought  I  could  find 
a  good  dish  of  frijoles  and  tortillas  in  the  camp  of 
those  Mexican  or  Chileno  charcoal-burners  over  there 
in  the  canon,  from  whence  the  bugle-call  came,  I 
would  start  on  the  instant,  and  let  the  rest  of  the 
party  go ;  but  the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that  they 
have  become  demoralized,  living  amonof  the  Yankees 
and  Pikes,  and  I  should  find  only  black  coffee  in  the 
place  of  the  delicious  chocolate  dc  Tabasco,  fried  bacon 
ior frijoles,  and  saleratus  or  yeast- powder  biscuit  for 
the  tortillas.  This  is  a  pretty  good  place  after  all, 
though  I  am  getting  very  dry. 

I  believe  I  will  take  a  smoke.  Why  did  I  not  think 
of  that  before  ?  The  tobacco  of  Orizava  is  meat  and 
drink  and  rest,  all  in  one.  Leonardo  Sandoval,  pro- 
prietor of  "La  Fabric  a  del  Buen  Gusto  en  Guada- 
lajara," you  are  a  noble  fellow,  though  anti-tobacco- 
nists may  say  what  they  please ;  and  you  are  my 
friend!  You  have  the  soul  of  a  poet,  too,  in  your 
bosom,  else  this  would  never  have  been  printed  in 
letters  of  gold  upon  the  wrapper  ol  the  package  of 
your  cigarritos,  which  by  unbounded  good  luck  I  find 
in  my  pocket: 


Nina  hermosa, 
Ya  que  te  dio'  natura  bondadosa 
Dicntes  de  per/a,  labios  de  coral; 

La  ambrosia 
4spira  solo  de  la  csencia  ?nia 
V  hare  tu  aliento  puro,  angelical. 


j     g  WAITING    UNDER    THE  MADRONO. 

Your  head  is  eminently  level,  Seilor  Sandoval !  I 
endorse  your  sentiments  to  the  very  letter.  Si  Nina 
hermosa;  I  know  her  well!  Teeth  of  pearl,  lips  of 
coral ;  that  is  her  description  to  the  life !  Hang  me, 
Leonardo,  if  you  are  not  an  artist  as  well  as  a  poet 
and  tobacconist!  When  next  I  enter  your  shop  on 
the  corner  of  the  street  of  the  Aduana  and  San  Felipe, 
in  orange-embowered  Guadalajara,  I  will  cultivate  a 
more  intimate  acquaintance.  Nina  hermosa,  I  should 
like  wonderfully  well  to  drink  to  your  health  just  now, 
but  as  I  have  not  the  essential  for  such  a  demonstra- 
tion with  me,  I  will  do  the  best  I  can  under  the  circum- 
stances, and  give  you  a  puff — from  my  cigarrito ! 

The  blue  smoke  curls  gracefully  upward,  rising 
through  the  madrono  branches  in  a  slender  column, 
so  like  a  delicate,  long-stemmed  wine-glass  in  form,  as 
to  awaken  a  double  recollection  and  association  in  my 
mind.  I  stand  again  on  the  Red  Desert,  hot,  blister- 
ing sand  beneath  my  feet,  a  brazen  sky  all  aflame 
above,  and  bare,  red  mountains  flickering  in  the  re- 
flected rays  of  the  fierce,  blazing  sun  of  the  south, 
around  me,  gazing  on  a  scene  so  sad,  that  even  I, 
bitter  Indian -hater  that  I  am  and  must  be.  witness 
with  heartfelt  pain.  Let  me  see  how  it  all  came 
about. 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  1863  when  the  mad  rush 
across  the  Colorado  Desert,  to  the  newly  found  gold 
and  copper  mines  beyond  the  Colorado,  in  Arizona, 
was  at  its  height.  The  heat  and  dust,  and  consequent 
sufferings  of  the  poorly  outfitted  participants  in  the 
rush,  were  terrible.     What  will  not  man  suffer  for  the 


LOST  ON  THE  DESERT.  Igg 

sake  of  gold,  always  provided  that  the  gold  is  far 
enough  off,  and  hard  enough  to  get  ?  Nearer  at  hand 
and  easier  won,  it  is  not  half  so  attractive. 

Uncle  Billy  Thompson  and  myself  had  taken  a 
"short  cut"  across  the  desert  from  San  Gor^onio  Pass, 
eastward  toward  the  Colorado,  to  avoid  undesirable 
company;  we  lost  the  trail,  and  wandered  on  the  red- 
hot  desert  sands,  and  in  the  sun-baked  adobe  moun- 
tains, without  water,  until  our  tongues  parched  in  our 
mouths  so  that  we  dared  not  talk  ;  and  before  our  long- 
ing eyes  the  leafless  palo  yerde  shrubs  turned  to  lofty 
palm  trees,  waving  their  green  leaves  in  tropic  breezes; 
and  the  mirage  changed  scattered  volcanic  rocks  into 
great  cities,  whose  long,  level  streets  were  lined  with 
rows  of  palaces,  such  as  the  good  Haroun  Al  Raschid 
raised  in  the  city  of  the  caliphs.  By  one  of  those 
freaks  of  fortune  which  some  men  call  "miracles," 
others  "special  Providence,"  others  "lucky  chances" 
— and  for  which  we  thanked  God  in  the  silence  of  our 
hearts  without  stopping  to  call  it  anything — we  had 
found  a  little  deposit  of  pure  water  under  a  rock,  left 
a  day  or  two  before  by  a  cloud-burst,  which  had  torn 
a  channel  like  that  of  some  great  river,  for  twenty 
miles  through  the  gravelly  sands  of  the  desert,  and 
disappeared  like  a  dream,  leaving  no  other  trace  be- 
hind— had  shared  the  life-gfivino-  element  with  our 
famishing  horses,  taken  rest  and  new  heart,  and  trav- 
eling on,  passing  the  spot  where  others  less  fortunate 
had  lain  down  in  despair  and  died,  had  reached  a  hos- 
pitable camp,  and  been  saved  at  last.  We  had  journey- 
ed thence  in  safety  at  last  to  the  land  of  the  accursed 


200  WAITING   UNDER   THE  MADRONO. 

Apache,  wandered  into  the  red  mountains  of  Arizona,, 
made  our  "locations,"  and  separated — he  to  toil  in  the 
mines  and  fight  the  treacherous,  prowling  Indians  for 
years,  I  to  return  to  home  and  civilization.  Alone  I 
had  made  the  return  trip  from  La  Paz  to  Chucolw?J!a, 
and  thence  to  Tabasaca  and  Canon  Springs,  where 
the  faithful  old  buckskin  steed  Muchacho  Juan,  com- 
panion and  friend  in  all  my  wanderings,  had  fallen 
down  and  died  in  terrible  agony,  after  eating  the  poi- 
sonous weed  of  the  desert  known  as  "muerto  en  el 
campo"  (death  in  the  camp),  leaving  me  to  finish 
my  journey  of  two  hundred  miles  back  to  the  settle- 
ments of  California  on  foot  and  alone.  Out  of  the  jaws 
of  death  we  had  ridden  exultantly  into  the  camp  at 
Dos  Palmas  a  month  before ;  into  the  gates  of  hell  I 
walked  with  bleeding  feet  as  I  left  Dos  Palmas  next, 
inthe  terrible  silence  of  the  desert  night,  on  my  weary 
tramp  toward  San  Bernardino. 

It  was  two  a.m.  when  I  wearily  climbed  the  summit 
of  the  divide  between  Dos  Palmas  and  the  Palma 
Seca,  and  looked  down  into  the  great  plain  below. 
When  the  last  man  looks  down  on  the  wreck  of  the 
universe,  and  sees  our  world  going  back  into  chaos, 
without  form  and  void,  he  will  not  behold  a  scene  of 
more  utter  and  savage  desolation,  or  find  himself 
wrapped  in  a  silence  more  truly  terrible.  The  full, 
round  moon  flooded  the  whole  landscape  with  mellow 
light,  but  naught  of  life  was  to  be  seen ;  the  ghastly 
pallor  of  death  was  upon  and  over  everything.  South- 
ward to  the  horizon  stretched  a  great  plain  of  snowy 
salt — the  grim  and  silent  ghost  of  a  dead  sea  of  the 


DESERT  SCENERY.  nQ 

past,  which  once  covered  all  this  accursed  land,  but 
being  cut  off  by  volcanic  changes  in  the  country  below 
from  the  Gulf  of  California,  dried  up  beneath  the  blaz- 
ing sun  of  the  south,  and  passed  away  forever.  Across 
this  vast  white  plain,  as  across  the  waters  of  a  placid 
lake,  the  moon  threw  a  track  of  shimmering  light  so 
bright  as  to  almost  dazzle  the  eyes  of  the  beholder. 
Right  in  this  glowing  pathway  of  light,  far  out  in  the 
centre  of  this  ghostly  sea,  where  foot  of  man  hath  never 
trod,  lay  what  appeared  in  the  dim  distance  the  wreck 
of  a  gallant  ship,  which  may  have  gone  down  there 
centuries  ago,  when  the  bold  Spanish  Conquistador es, 
bearing  the  cross  in  one  hand  and  the  sword  in  the 
other,  and  serving  God  and  Mammon,  and  the  Most 
Catholic  King  of  Spain  and  the  Indias,  with  exem- 
plary zeal,  were  pushing  their  way  to  the  northwest,  in 
search  of  souls  to  save  for  the  love  of  Christ,  and  new 
kingdoms  to  plunder  on  shares.  They  sought  then 
in  vain  for  the  fountain  of  youth,  El  Dorado,  and 
the  far-famed  "Seven  Cities  of  Civola."  The  fountain 
of  youth  lies  ever  just  beyond  the  western  horizon ; 
we  shall  find  it,  and  drink  of  it,  and  bathe  in  its  waters 
bye-and-bye ;  the  kingdom  of  Civola,  from  whence 
came  the  gems  and  treasure  of  Montezuma,  lay  even 
then  in  ruins  in  central  Arizona,  as  we  know  to-day  ; 
and  El  Dorado  they  found,  but  knew  it  not,  leaving  it 
to  us,  who  long  years  after  came  in  and  possessed 
the  land,  and  made  it  to  blossom  as  the  rose,  and  to 
our  children's  children,  to  shout  "Eureka!"  over  bs 
abounding  wealth.  To  the  southwestward,  beyond 
the  western  shore  of  the  ancient  sea,  the  Coyotero 


o02         WAITING    UNDER    THE   MADRONO. 

mountains  broke  the  outline  of  the  horizon.  Farther 
northward,  Mount'  San  Jacinto  lifted  his  rugged  form 
in  a  black  mass  against  the  sky;  and  northward,  still 
the  desert,  in  pulseless  waves  of  ashes,  minute  sea- 
shells  and  yellow  sand,  stretched  away  for  a  hundred 
miles,  like  a  stagnant,  tideless  sea,  to  where  Mount 
San  Gorgonio  and  Mount  San  Bernardino  towered 
aloft  in  awful  majesty — twin  giants,  grim  and  grand — 
at  the  gateway  of  this  strange,  wild,  weird,  myste- 
rious land.  Upon  their  sides,  far  above  the  yellow 
sands  of  the  desert,  belts  of  dark-hued  pifion  forests 
stretched  upward  to  their  crowns  of  white,  disinteg- 
rated granite,  which  gleamed  like  snow-fields  in  the 
clear  moonlight,  contrasting  like  frosted  silver  against 
the  sapphire  sky,  and  seeming  to  be  cut  off  and  de- 
tached from  the  earth  below — floating  like  aerial  ice- 
bergs through  the  starlit  sea  of  the  heavens.  In  vain 
I  looked  and  listened ;  sight  or  sound  of  life,  save  my 
own,  there  was  none ;  the  eternal  silence  of  the  desert 
rested  like  a  pall  on  the  scene.  This  stillness  is  some- 
thing awful,  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  describe. 
In  the  absence  of  all  other  sounds,  save  that  of  my 
own  hushed  breathing,  the  ticking  of  the  watch  in  my 
pocket  was  so  distinctly  audible  as  to  become  painful 
to  hear.  The  world  in  ruins  lay  around  me,  and 
though  in  it,  I  seemed  not  of  it.  "Though  I  walk 
through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,"  cried 
the  Psalmist :  lo,  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  stretched 
out  before  my  feet! 

As  the  grey  light,  creeping  sluggishly  over  the  gla- 
cier mountains,  announced  the  coming  dawn,  I  limped 


A    WOFUL  PLIGHT.  0(~, 

into  the  thicket  of  rank,  bitter-leaved  arrowwood  which 
surrounds  the  bitter  and  nauseous  alkaline  springs  of 
the  Palma  Seca,  drank  of  the  slimy  waters,  filled  my 
canteen  afresh,  and  pushed  on  again  down  into  the 
plain,  with  a  walk  of  twenty-five  miles  through  alka- 
line dust,  in  the  hottest  valley  on  the  surface  of  the 
earth — seventy  feet  below  the  level  of  the  sea  at  that 
— before  me.  About  ten  o'clock,  a  ranchero  from 
San  Bernardino,  who  had  been  out  to  the  new  eold 
mines  of  Arizona  with  a  drove  of  beef  cattle,  came 
up  and  joined  me.  His  horse,  a  noble,  fine-haired 
half-breed,  far  too  good  an  animal  to  be  brought  out 
into  this  accursed  desert  to  die  of  heat,  thirst  and 
starvation,  was  so  weak  that  he  could  no  longer  bear 
the  weight  of  his  master,  and  jogged  mechanically  on, 
with  his  eyes  closed  and  his  ears  hanging  down,  like 
two  frost-bitten  tobacco-leaves,  as  his  late  rider  limped 
before  him,  packing  his  blankets  on  his  shoulder,  and 
pulling  sadly  at  the  halter.  Noble — such  was  the 
name  of  my  friend  from  San  Bernardino — had  been 
a  jaunty-looking  young  fellow  when  I  saw  him  start- 
ing out  for  the  mines  from  home  six  weeks  before. 
When  I  met  him  that  day  he  was  a  fit  subject  for  the 
pencil  of  Hogarth.  His  coat  had  dried  up  and  van- 
ished, piece  by  piece,  in  the  thorny  thickets  beyond 
the  Colorado,  and  his  vest  had  followed  suit ;  his  hat 
was  a  wreck,  his  pants  in  ruins,  and  the  uppers  and 
soles  of  his  boots  having  parted  company,  he  had,  in 
a  fit  of  desperation,  parted  company  with  both.  To 
replace  his  boots,  he  had  split  his  lower  nether  gar- 
ment in  twain,    and  bound  the  sections    around  his 


204  WAITING    UNDER    THE  MADRONO. 

swollen  feet,  thus  in  a  measure  protecting  them  from 
the  blistering  sun  over  the  excoriating  alkaline  dust 
and  ashes. 

Opposite  where  we  met  that  morning  was  a  broad 
sheet  of  dried  mud,  broken  from  the  bed  of  what  in 
the  moment  of  a  cloud-burst  had  been  a  roaring  tor- 
rent,  capable  of  sweeping  away  a  whole  train  in  an 
instant,  as  one  was  swept  away  near  there  in  1866, 
when  men  were  drowned  and  their  bodies  carried 
miles  away  into  the  desert,  and  set  up  on  end  like  a 
grave-stone.  Some  passing  miners  on  the  back  track 
had  spent  an  hour  or  more  in  cutting  an  inscription 
on  this  monument,  as  follows: 

"In  memory  of  the  Infernal  Asses  who  left  home, 
square  meals,  and  the  comforts  of  civilization  behind 
them  in  San  Francisco,  and  sought  their  eternal  for- 
tunes among  the  mines  in  the  blessed  regions  beyond 
the  Colorado,  of  which  are  we.  This  monument  was 
raised  at  the  joint  expense  of  the  merchants  of  Los 
Angeles  and  San  Bernardino,  who  drove  a  thriving 
trade,  and  had  a  grand  thing  out  of  it  while  the  ex- 
citement lasted.  And  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven." 

We  looked  at  each  other  and  at  the  monument  by 
turns  with  mournful  interest.  The  cork  of  Noble's 
canteen  flew  out  with  a  pop,  propelled  by  the  force  of 
the  sulphur  gas  generated  from  the  half-boiling,  stink- 
ing water,  as  it  was  shaken  about  as  he  limped  along. 
"  Here,  Fly-up-the-Creek — I've  forgotten  your  other 
name — take  a  drink  ! "  said  he.  "You  are  another, 
my  beauty,  and  I  cannot  refuse!  "  I  replied,  and  swal- 
lowed a  mouthful  of  the  nauseating  fluid. 


HOPE  AT  LAST. 


20  = 


There  is  nothing  more  picturesque  than  a  caravan 
on  the  desert — when  seen  in  a  picture,  when  you  sit 
comfortably  at  home  in  a  civilized  country.  Believe 
me,  beloved  of  my  heart,  'tis  indeed  distance  lends 
enchantment  to  the  view.  That  expression  is,  I  be- 
lieve, not  wholly  original.  I  have  a  dim  recollection 
of  having-  heard  or  read  something  similar  once  or 
twice  before — but  it  is  very  neat  and  very  appro- 
priate, and  I  crib  it  accordingly. 

Higher  and  higher  climbed  the  sun  into  the  un- 
clouded,  copper-hued  sky,  and  hotter  and  hotter  grew 
the  motionless  desert  air,  until  the  point  where  breath- 
ing would  become  an  impossibility,  and  the  whole 
apparatus  must  catch  fire  and  burn  up,  seemed  almost 
reached.  The  treeless  mountains  which  shut  in  this 
desert  basin  on  all  sides,  keep  out  at  this  season  every 
breath  of  life-giving  breeze,  and  the  sun  pouring 
into  it,  as  into  an  old-fashioned  tin  bake-oven,  makes 
everything  fairly  hiss  with  the  all-consuming  heat. 
Mile  after  mile  I  plodded  on,  leaving  Noble  and  his 
exhausted  horse  far  behind,  the  heat  and  thirst  becom- 
ing more  nearly  intolerable  at  every  step. 

And  now  in  the  distance,  along  the  western  edge 
of  the  valley,  arose  great  pillars  of  smoke — thin,  and 
straight,  and  slender — to  a  vast  height ;  then  spread- 
ing outward  into  the  semblance  of  wide-limbed  trees, 
whose  roots  were  firmly  planted  in  the  earth,  whose 
giant  trunks  rose  in  the  middle  air,  and  whose  branches 
filled  all  the  heavens  above.  Toward  these  pillars  of 
smoke  I  bent  my  weary  steps ;  and  at  last,  just  as  it 
seemed  that  my  bleeding  feet  would  bear  me  no  further, 


206  WAITING    UNDER    THE  MADRONO. 

and  I  must  sink  down  exhausted,  I  came  suddenly  upon 
group  of  Coahuila  Indians,  gathered  around  a  clump 
ofmezquite  trees,  the  branches  of  which  were  crack- 
ling in  the  flames.  With  parched  lips  and  tongue, 
swollen  from  the  fierce  heat,  I  tottered,  almost  faint- 
ing, into  the  midst  of  the  group,  and  held  out  my 
empty  canteen.  A  young  woman  seized  the  canteen 
and  ran  into  a  thicket  hard  by,  returning  with  it  in  a 
few  minutes  filled  with  delicious,  cool,  clear  water, 
from  some  hidden  well,  known  only  to  themselves.  I 
sought  for  it  many  a  time  afterwards,  but  never  found 
it.  I  drank  of  the  cool,  life-giving  liquid — sweeter 
than  champagne  or  nectar,  it  seemed  to  me  then  (it  is 
but  just  to  the  manufacturers  of  the  articles  named  to 
say  that  I  had  no  chance  of  making  a  fair  comparison 
at  the  moment),  and  then  with  my  blankets  on  the 
dry  sand  under  a  spreading  mezquite,  slept  the  sleep 
of  the  just. 

When  I  awoke  the  Indians  were  all  gone,  save  the 
pitying  woman  who  had  brought  me  the  water.  She 
was  sitting-  at  a  little  distance  off  watching  me,  and 
as  she  saw  me  awakening,  she  ran  and  brought  me 
another  canteen  of  the  cool  water.  Her  language 
was  a  sealed  book  to  me,  as  mine  to  her,  and  our  con- 
versation was  necessarily  limited  to  a  few  words  of 
Spanish  which  pass  current  everywhere  on  the  south- 
western border,  and  are  understood  in  their  conven- 
tional meaning  by  all.  She  was  barefooted  and  bare- 
headed, and  marked  with  the  small-pox.  Her  raiment 
was  of  the  scantiest,  and  it  was  painfully  evident  that 
the  stock  of  soap  and  Cologne  water  in  the  parental 


THE    WHITE  MAN'S   CURSE.  2Q7 

wickiup  was  running  very  low,  necessitating  the  put- 
ting of  the  family  on  short  allowance.  She  was,  in 
short,  not  a  bit  like  the  traditional  "  fair  Alfaretto"  in 
any  respect ;  nevertheless  I  would  have  looked  twice 
at  an  angel  from  heaven  had  one  been  offered  in  trade 
for  her,  unless  the  angel  had  come  with  a  coach-and 
four,  or  on  horseback,  leading  a  spare  horse,  at  the 
very  least. 

There  is  a  little  river,  called  the  Aqua  Blancho,  is- 
suing out  of  the  San  Bernardino  Mountain,  at  the 
San  Gorgonio  Pass,  at  the  upper  end  of  the  valley, 
and  sinking  in  the  sands  of  the  desert  soon  after  reach- 
ing the  plain.  Its  waters  are  pure  and  cool,  but  no 
tree  nor  blade  of  grass  grows  on  its  desolate  banks. 
From  its  source  in  the  barren  rock-ribbed  mountain 
to  its  sink  in  the  desert  sands,  through  all  its  course, 
it  is  an  accursed  river,  flowing  ever  in  silence  throuo-h 
a  land  accursed.  But  after  it  sinks  and  is  permanently 
lost  to  sight,  it  contributes  something  to  the  comfort 
of  mankind.  It  supplies  the  poor  Coahuilas'  wells 
fifty  and  a  hundred  miles  to  the  southward,  and 
nourishes  a  growth  of  the  mezquite  trees  alono-  the 
western  side  of  the  valley.  In  these  mezquite  groves 
the  Indians  have  what  is  left  of  their  villages  since  the 
small-pox  has  decimated  them;  and  from  the  trees 
they  gather  the  long,  yellow,  sugary  beans,  which, 
pounded  into  a  paste  and  baked  as  bread,  form  with 
the  pifions,  or  mountain  pine  nuts,  almost  their  only 
diet  the  year  round.  The  small-pox  was  a  ter- 
rible infliction  upon  them,  but  a  more  terrible  one 
followed  close  upon  it.     When  the  Indians  of  the 


203  WAITING    UNDER    THE  MADRONO. 

valley  of  the  Mississippi  saw  the  honey-bee  coming 
among-  them,  they  said,  "  Lo,  the  messenger  of  the 
white  man  !  He  is  at  hand;  it  is  time  for  us  to  go!" 
Following  the  small-pox  came  the  mistletoe  into  this 
desert  land,  and,  fastening  upon  the  mezquite  trees, 
soon  loaded  them  down  so  heavily  with  its  parasitic 
growth,  that  they  ceased  to  produce  beans,  and  the 
Indians  saw  starvation  before  them.  "Lo,  the  curse 
of  the  white  man  is  upon  us!"  they  cried,  and  sat 
down  in  despair.  An  old  chief  told  them  to  burn  each 
season  the  trees  worst  afflicted  with  the  mistletoe,  and 
perhaps  the  new  ones  which  would  spring  up  in  their 
places  might  be  free  from  the  curse.  This  is  what 
they  were  doing  on  that  day  when  I  stumbled  among 
them  ;  and  a  feeling  of  pity,  deep  and  heartfelt,  came 
over  me,  as  I  saw  them  standing  around  the  burning 
trees,  which  had  represented  to  them  life,  and  hope, 
and  abundance,  and  gazing  with  saddened,  downcast, 
hopeless  faces  upon  the  consuming  flames. 

Lying  here  to-day  in  the  fragrant  shade  of  the 
blooming  madrono,  on  the  green-clad  heights  of  the 
mountains  of  Napa,  watching  the  smoke  curling  up- 
ward from  my  fragrant  cigarrito,  something — what  it 
is  I  cannot  tell—recalls  all  this  to  mind  and  memory; 
going  backward  through  the  years,  reproduces  the 
picture  once  again  in  all  its  startling,  painful  vividness. 

H-a-1-l-o-o-o-a  there!  Thank  Heaven,  an  answer- 
ing  call  comes  back  at  last,  and  I  see  the  Doctor,  with 
his  rifle  on  his  shoulder,  coming  slowly  up  the  moun- 
tain— and  Bill  is  with  him.  Bill  is  my  friend.  Sun- 
burned American,  never  shall  any  man  call  you  black 


HEALTH  TO    THE    IV/DOH".  2Qg 

again  in  my  presence !  You  are  a  free  and  enlight- 
ened American  citizen  ;  smoked  a  trifle,  I  admit ;  but 
what  is  ham  until  it  is  smoked?  Who  objects  to 
smoke?  Another  widow!  First,  the  Widow  of  Gar- 
cia ;  then  the  Widow  Cliquot !  Respect  for  the 
widows  is  one  of  the  most  striking  characteristics  of 
the  true  gentleman,  and  I  am  overflowing  with  it. 
Here's  to  them  all ! 

Not  much  luck  to-day,  Doctor?  Well,  the  exer- 
cise will  do  you  good,  and  that  is  a  consolation  at  any 
rate.  You  certainly  needed  it.  People  in  San  Fran- 
cisco eat  too  much  and  drink  too  much,  take  too 
much  sleep  and  too  little  pedestrian  exercise.  They 
don't  perspire  from  one  year's  end  to  the  next. 
There  is  all  the  difference  in  the  world  between  this 
climate  and  that  of  San  Francisco ;  and,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  there  is  still  more  between  this  and  what 
you  were  used  to  the  season  you  hibernated  up  there 
in  the  Sierra  Nevada? 

Yes,  there  is  some  difference,  and  no  mistake.  Many 
a  night  I  have  curled  myself  up  under  three  pairs  of 
California  eight-pound  blankets  and  shivered  all  night 
long.  While  you  are  in  motion  you  do  not  feel  the 
cold  so  much,  but  when  once  you  lie  down  and  attempt 
to  sleep,  it  would  take  a  pile  of  blankets  like  Mount 
St.  Helena  over  there  to  keep  you  from  freezing  to 
death,  unless  you  had  a  roaring  fire  going  all  the 
time  on  one  of  those  stormy  nights.  And  a  physician 
has  almost  a  dead  certainty  of  being  called  out  on  the 
darkest  and  wildest  nights  for  his  longest  rides  to  at- 
tend on  patients  who  cannot  wait  a  moment  under 


oIO  WAITING    UNDER    THE  MADRONO 

any  circumstances.  One  night's  ride  which  I  had  in 
the  Sierra  I  shall  certainly  never  forget. 

It  was  in  the  winter  of  1868-69,  when  I  had  just 
been  placed  in  charge  of  a  division  near  the  summit  of 
the  Sierra  Nevada,  on  the  then  half-finished  Central 
Pacific  Railroad.  After  a  long  day's  ride,  I  came 
back  to  the  boarding-house  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing, and  was  told  that  a  messenger  had  been  there 
from  Camp  No.  10,  with  a  request  that  I  would  lose 
no  time  in  hurrying  over  there  to  attend  upon  John 
Smith,  who  was  in  a  very  critical  condition.  The 
messenger  had  been  very  urgent,  and  it  was  evidently 
a  case  of  life  and  death — nothing  less.  I  took  a  few 
minutes  to  consider.  I  was  tired  out,  and  wanted 
sleep  badly,  but  could,  on  a  pinch,  go  a  little  farther 
without  breaking  down  entirely.  The  moon  would 
be  up  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  night  was  still  and 
clear,  though  the  snow  had  only  just  ceased  falling, 
and  was  from  five  to  eight  feet  deep  on  the  level,  if  you 
can  use  the  expression  properly  where  there  is  nothing 
like  a  level  to  be  found,  and  the  roads — or  trails, 
rather — are  obliterated  by  the  drifts.  I  inquired  about 
the  location  of  Camp  No.  10.  It  was  twelve  miles 
away,  and  directly  over  a  ridge,  or  spur,  of  the  moun- 
tains. My  own  horse  could  not  stand  the  trip,  but  a 
big  lubber  of  a  cart-horse,  that  they  said  was  a  good 
saddle-horse,  was  offered  me.  I  got  supper,  put  on 
dry  socks  and  an  extra  pair  of  fur-lined  overboots, 
and,  just  before  midnight,  was  in  the  saddle  and  off. 

A  good  saddle-horse !  The  brute  belonged  to  the 
nightmare   family,  and  his  mother  must  have  taken 


TRAVELING    UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.  2II 

special  pride  in  him.  Great  heavens,  what  a  gait! 
He  had  traveled  so  long  in  the  cart  that  the  steady 
jolt  had  communicated  itself  to  his  spine,  and  become 
chronic.  At  every  step  he  jerked  his  back  up,  as  if 
expecting  to  feel  the  girth-strap  strike  him  underneath, 
and  neither  curses  nor  blows — and  I  labored  con- 
scientiously to  earn  a  reputation  for  liberality  with 
both  that  night — would  induce  him  for  a  moment  to 
recognize  the  fact  that  he  was  out  of  the  shafts,  and 
abandon  his  eternal  hippytyhop.  When  I  started  out, 
there  were  hard  lumps  in  the  saddle,  as  large  as  chest- 
nuts ;  before  the  twelve  miles  were  half  completed, 
the  lumps  had  grown  to  the  size  of  paving-stones,  and 
awfully  sharp -edged  and  rasping.  The  snow  which 
had  just  fallen  filled  the  trail,  but  the  old  snow  under- 
neath being  hard-packed,  and  the  trees  along  the  route 
well  blazed,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  keeping  in  the  right 
track  most  of  the  time.  But  when  about  three  miles 
from  my  place  of  destination,  as  nearly  as  I  could  guess, 
clouds  obscured  the  moon  for  a  time,  and  I  lost  the 
road.  I  kept  on  as  well  as  I  knew  how,  guessing  at  the 
location  of  Camp  No.  10;  and,  after  rolling  down  the 
steep  side  of  a  ravine,  and  working  half  an  hour  to 
get  old  Jerky  back  upon  the  ridge,  filling  my  overshoes 
with  snow,  and  fairly  exhausting  myself  in  floundering 
through  the  drifts,  I  was  rewarded  with  the  siofht  of 
lights  in  some  cabins  half  a  mile  away.  Not  doubting 
that  this  was  Camp  No.  10,  I  rounded  a  small  canon, 
worked  my  way  over  a  point  of  rocks,  Jerky  stum- 
bling and  falling  repeatedly,  and  reached  the  cabins  at 
half  past  twelve  o'clock. 


2I2  WAITING    UNDER    7 HE  MADRONO. 

The  Jights  had  disappeared.  "  Halloo  the  house, 
there!"  No  answer.  "  Halloo  the  house!"  louder 
and  longer  than  before.  A  panel  in  the  side  of  the 
nearest  cabin  opened  slowly  and  cautiously,  and  after 
time  enough  had  elapsed  to  allow  of  a  critical  exami- 
nation of  the  party  outside,  a  voice  demanded:  "Who 
you,  John?  What  you  wantee  catchee  here?"  It 
was  a  Chinese  wood-cutters'  camp,  and  there  was  not 
a  white  man  about  the  place. 

The  Johns  told  me  that  there  was  a  camp-  of  white 
men  on  the  other  side  of  the  ravine  I  had  just  crossed, 
and  perhaps  half  a  mile  farther  up  the  mountain  ;  they 
thought  it  might  be  "Camp  Numble  10."  Half  an 
hour's  floundering  through  the  snow  brought  me  back 
to  the  point  whence  I  had  sighted  the  lights,  and  soon 
after  one  a.  m.  I  was  at  the  white  men's  camp.  I  roused 
the  inmates  more  easily  here,  as  they  were  indulging 
in  a  little  friendly  game  of  "pitch,"  or  "draw" — that 
being  Saturday  night — and  had  not  retired  to  their 
virtuous  bunks.  No,  that  was  not  Camp  No.  10,  my 
informer  told  me ;  and,  what  was  worse,  Camp  No. 
10  was  right  over  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  a  mile 
and  a  half  away.  I  could  go  around  by  the  trail  three 
miles,  or  ride  up  to  the  railroad- track,  tie  my  horse, 
and  walk  through  the  snow-sheds,  a  little  more  than 
a  mile — it  was  contrary  to  the  rules  to  take  an  animal 
inside  the  sheds. 

I  started  up  toward  the  track,  and  reached  it  at  two 
a.  m.  The  night  was  now  clear  and  still ;  not  the 
slightest  noise  could  be  heard,  and  the  silence  was 
something  awful  and  oppressive.     The  last  man  and 


A   SUOKT  CUT 


21 


the  last  horse  on  earth  will  not  feel  more  completely- 
alone  than  Jerky  and  I  did  at  that  moment.  As  I  was 
about  to  dismount  and  tie  him  to  a  tree,  a  thought 
struck  me.  I  knew  every  regular  train  on  the  road, 
and  there  was  none  due  for  hours  from  either  direction. 
I  had  a  time-table  in  my  pocket,  and  I  took  it  out  and 
examined  it  carefully  by  the  moonlight.  The  track 
was  clear;  why  might  I  not  venture  to  save  my 
strength  and  that  of  my  horse,  and,  by  saving  time, 
perhaps  save  a  valuable  human  life  as  well?  Why 
not,  indeed?  The  more  I  thought  of  it,  the  more 
satisfied  I  became  that  it  was  a  safe  thing  to  do. 

The  moon,  now  unobscured,  was  high  in  the  heav- 
ens as  I  entered  the  snow-shed,  and  it  was  not  very 
difficult  to  keep  the  way,  as  the  light  came  scintillating 
through  a  thousand  cracks  and  crevices  in  the  roueh 
timber  structure.  Three  or  four  culverts,  to  allow  the 
passage  of  mountain  streams  when  the  snow  is  melt- 
ing, checked  my  progress  for  a  brief  time,  but  there 
was  a  plank  across  one  or  two,  for  the  convenience 
of  "foot-passengers,"  and  as  the  water  was  hard 
frozen,  I  got  old  Jerky  around  the  others  in  safety. 

The  worst  was  over,  and  I  was  already  beginning  to 
chuckle  over  the  adventure,  and  pride  myself  on  my 
forethought  and  pluck  in  making  the  venture.  I  had, 
undoubtedly,  saved  at  least  an  hour  of  hard  work 
wading  through  the  snow,  and  possibly — not  improba- 
bly, in  fact,  saved  a  life.  Just  then  I  heard  a  low,  tremu- 
lous, humming  noise  running  along  the  frost-laden  rails, 
and  instinctively  checked  my  horse  to  listen.  It  had 
subsided  for  the  moment,  and  I  went  on  in  silence. 


2  j  a  WAITING    UNDER    THE  MADRONO. 

Suddenly  it  commenced  again,  and  seemed  louder  and 
clearer  than  before.  I  halted  again.  God  have  mercy 
upon  me!  I  exclaimed  involuntarily.  It  was  the  rum- 
ble of  the  wheels  of  a  coming  train,  beyond  a  ques- 
tion. I  sprang  to  the  ground  and  placed  my  ear  to 
the  rail.  The  train  was  coming  from  the  west ;  it 
must  be  a  "construction  train,"  laden  with  materials 
for  the  road,  and  possibly  with  laborers  as  well.  The 
track  occupied  the  full  width  of  the  shed,  allowing 
only  for  the  overhang  of  the  cars.  A  man  might  es- 
cape by  lying  down ;  but  a  horse  was  almost  sure  of 
death,  and  if  the  train  struck  him,  it  must  go  off  the 
track  almost  inevitably.  I  was  upon  old  Jerky's  back 
before  I  was  even  aware  of  what  I  was  doing,  and 
started  down  the  grade,  to  the  eastward,  as  fast  as 
his  stiff  and  clumsy  legs,  urged  by  whip  and  spur, 
and  the  attraction  of  gravitation,  could  move  him. 
Clearer  and  clearer  came  the  humming  noise ;  and  I 
heard,  at  length,  a  short,  sharp  whistle,  as  the  rushing 
train  entered  a  tunnel,  turned  a  sharp  curve,  or  passed 
out  of  a  tunnel.  It  could  not  be  more  than  two  miles, 
or  three  at  most,  away.  Jerky  skated  over  the  ice- 
patches,  and  floundered  through  the  small  snow-drifts 
which  had  filtered  in  through  the  crevices  in  the  shed- 
work,  but  reckless  of  danger  to  limbs  alone  in  pres- 
ence of  the  greater  danger  to  myself,  and  perhaps 
hundreds  of  my  fellow-men,  I  whipped  and  spurred 
unceasingly,  and  drove  him  on  at  the  height  of  his 
speed.  Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  train.  I  could 
already  hear  the  chough,  chough,  chough  of  the  lo- 
comotive behind  me.     At  last  I  saw  an  opening  in 


A  DILEMMA.  2I 


the  side  of  the  shed  not  many  rods  distant,  and,  with 
with  a  triumphant  yell,  I  urged  my  steed  to  put  forth 
his  utmost  effort.  Sixty  seconds  more  and  I  would 
be  saved,  and  the  danger  to  the  train  avoided.  The 
seconds  seemed  hours  in  the  feverish  excitement  of 
the  moment,  but  they  were  over  at  last,  and  I  sprang 
off  my  horse  on  the  instant  that  he  reached  the  open- 
ing, and  rushed,  with  the  rein  in  my  hand,  through  the 
aperture.  Old  Jerky  snorted  and  sprang  backward, 
throwing  me  down,  and  pulling  the  rein  from  my  hand. 
I  saw  the  trouble  at  a  glance.  The  opening  was  not 
of  sufficient  height  to  admit  of  a  horse  p-oinsf  through 
it  erect,  and  a  heavy  timber  to  which  the  planks  were 
nailed,  ran  across  the  top.  I  sprang  inside  and  took 
a  survey  of  the  situation  in  an  instant.  The  beam 
would  have  borne  ten  times  the  strain  that  I  could 
have  brought  to  bear  upon  it,  as  it  was  a  foot  thick, 
sound,  and  firmly  placed.  I  threw  all  my  strength 
and  weight  against  the  planking  a  little  beyond  the 
beam,  and  fell  back  upon  the  icy  ground  ;  the  planks 
were  imbedded  in  the  frozen  ground  at  their  lower 
ends,  and  I  could  not  start  them  in  the  slightest  de- 
gree. I  sprang  up  and  ran  to  the  other  side  of  the 
shed,  to  -try  if  the  planking  on  that  side  was  less  firmly 
secured.  Through  the  crevices  I  saw  a  precipice  run- 
ning hundreds  of  feet,  sheer  down  from  the  side  of  the 
shed.  I  could  not  escape  that  way,  and  if  the  train  went 
off  there,  no  person  on  it  would  survive  to  tell  the  tale. 
I  fell -on  my  knees  to  pray,  but,  before  I  had  uttered 
a  word,  the  thought  passed  through  my  brain  that  I 
might  throw  the  horse  down,  and  pull  him  through 


2  j  5  WAITING    UNDER    THE  MADRONO 

the  opening  by  main  strength.     I  had  the  rope  from 
the  saddle  in  my  hands  in  an  instant,  and  throwing  it 
around  his  fore-legs,  I  sprang  to  one  side,  and  with 
my  whole  strength  attempted  to  trip  him.    The  brute 
jumped  backward  and  refused  to  fall,  while  the  rope 
ran  through  my  hands,  tearing  the  skin,  and  searing 
the  flesh  as  if  I  had  grasped  a  red-hot  iron.    I  remem- 
bered at  that  moment  having  seen  a  Mexican  vaquero 
showing  off  his  skill   in  horsemanship,  at  San  Jose, 
amid  an  admiring  throng,  and  making  the  sneering 
remark  to  a  friend,   "And  he  is  nothing  but  a  bull- 
driver,  after  all."     In  that  time  of  supreme  agony,   I 
would  have  sacrificed  every  advantage  of  birth,  educa- 
tion, talent,  and  professional  skill,  and  changed  places 
with  that  uneducated,  despised,  bull-driving  Greaser, 
merely  to  have  received  in  turn  the  gift  of  the  ability 
to  perform  the  trick  of  throwing  down  a  horse.     My 
foot  struck  a  stick  of  wood,  such  as  is  used  for  burn- 
ing  on  the    locomotives,   which   was   lying   on   the 
ground,  and  I  instantly  stooped  to  get  it,  determined 
to  beat  the  brains  out  of  the  brute  with  it,  or  at  least 
stun  him  into  insensibility,  and  then  pull  him  into  the 
opening.     It  was  frozen  fast  in  the  ice,  and  I  could  not 
tear  it  loose,  though  I  put  forth  strength  which  seemed 
herculean,  in  the  frenzy  of  my  excitement.    It  occurred 
to  me  that  I  had  a  pocket-knife,  and  I  might  cut  his 
throat;  but  the  train  was  almost  upon  me, and  there  was 
no  time  for  him  to  bleed  to  death ;  this  reflection  did 
not  consume  a  second  and  a  half.     In  my  despair,  I 
gave  one  long-drawn  yell — "  Help! "   No  answer  came. 
The  train  rushed  on,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  with  light- 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE.  2I- 

ning  speed,  upon  the  down  grade,  and  the  light  of  the 
•locomotive  head- lamp  already  fell  upon  me.  Ten 
seconds  more,  and  there  would  be  a  terrific  crash, 
and  a  pile  of  broken  cars  ;  and  crushed,  bleeding  and 
dying  men  would  burst  through  the  side  of  the  shed, 
and  go  rolling  down  the  mountain  side.  Deadly  faint, 
and  convinced  that  all  was  nearly  over,  I  staggered 
against  the  side  of  the  shed,  closed  my  eyes,  and  sank 
half  down  to  the  ground.  I  heard  Jerky  give  a  sud- 
den snort  of  terror,  and  opened  my  eyes.  He  had 
discovered  the  danger  at  last,  and  comprehended  it 
all  in  an  instant.  The  train  could  not  have  been  more 
than  thirty  feet  from  him,  when  he  made  one  tremend- 
ous jump,  and  went  through  the  opening.  The  beam 
caught  the  high  Mexican  saddle,  tore  it  into  fragments, 
and  frightfully  lacerated  his  back,  but  his  weight,  and 
the  strength  which  mortal  terror  gave  him,  carried  him 
through,  and  he  fell  in  the  snow  outside.  I  sprang 
after  him,  just  as  the  locomotive  came  abreast  of  me, 
and  fell,  trembling,  exhausted  and  fainting  beside  him. 
I  don't  think  the  engineer  saw  us  at  all.  I  did  not 
see  him,  so  far  as  I  could  remember  afterward.  It 
was  half  an  hour  before  I  could  gather  strength  enough 
to  regain  my  feet.  When  I  did  so,  I  got  my  ex- 
hausted and  bleeding  horse  upon  his  legs,  and  replaced 
the  wreck  of  the  saddle  upon  his  lacerated  back,  se- 
curing it,  as  well  as  I  could,  with  some  thongs  cut 
from  the  edge  of  the  rein,  and  my  pocket-handker- 
chief, torn  into  strips,  and  prepared  to  resume  my 
journey.  In  a  canon,  filled  with  the  black  shadow  of 
the  mountain,  I  saw  what  appeared  to  be  the  dim 


2  j  g  WAITING    UNDER    THE  MADRONO. 

outlines  of  several  cabins.  That  must  be  Camp  No. 
10.  Pulling  my  limping  steed  after  me  by  the  bridle* 
I  made  my  way  slowly  and  painfully  down  to  the 
nearest  cabin,  and  knocked  at  the  door.  "Git!"  was 
the  response  which  came  to  the  third  or  fourth  knock. 
I  repeated  the  knocking.  "Git!  you  drunken  son  of 
a  gun !  You  have  been  yelling  around  here  long 
enough!  Leave — or  I'll  put  a  bullet  through  you!  " 
came  in  decided  and  most  emphatic  tones  from  within. 
I  called  out  that  I  was  the  doctor  from  Camp  — ,  not 
the  man  they  mistook  me  for,  and  wanted  to  know  if 
that  was  Camp  No.  io,  and  if  John  Smith  was  there 
— John  Smith,  who  was  dying,  and  wanted  the  doctor 
so  bad.  There  was  a  moment's  debate  in  whispers, 
between  two  or  more  persons  inside;  then  I  heard 
the  scratching  of  matches  and  the  shuffling  of  heavy 
slippers  over  the  floor,  and  at  last  the  door  was 
opened,  "  Be  you  the  doctor?  Well,  you  are  a  pow- 
erful weak-looking  young  chicken  for  a  doctor!"  said 
John  Smith — for  it  proved  to  be  he — after  he  had 
held  the  candle  to  my  face,  and  deliberately  scrutinized 
my  person  for  some  seconds. 

"You  sent  for  me,  I  think,  Mr.  Smith?" 

"Well,  yes,  I  did  send  for  you;  but  I'm  kinder 
sorry  now  that  I  did,  for  I  have  concluded  to  go  over 
thar  to-morrow  on  business,  anyhow." 

"But  the  messenger  said  you  were  dying,  or  the 
next  thing  to  it — almost  dead,  I  think  he  said." 

"  Well,  yes,  I  was  pretty  considerable  scared  at  the 
time.  You  see  I  had  a  eruption  come  out  right  bad 
on  my  leg,  and  I  was  afraid  it  might  be  pleurisy,  or 


GIT!  2J9 

new-amonia,  or  erysifilus,  or  suthin  o'  that  sort,  and 
if  I  come  over  in  the  snow  and  catched  cold  in  it,  I 
might  'a  gone  in." 

He  sat  down  on  the  side  of  his  bunk,  and  pulled  up 
the  drawers  from  his  right  shin:  there  was  a  patch  of 
ringworm  there,  about  the  size  of  a  silver  dollar — and 
that  was  all.  I  made  use  of  some  strong  expressions.  I 
don't  often  swear,  but  I  felt  aggravated,  under  all  the 
circumstances,  and  considered  myself  justified.  I  still 
so  consider.  Mr.  Smith  heard  me  through.  Then  he 
arose  majestically  to  his  feet,  and  thus  relieved  himself: 

"Young  man!  I  jest  put  you  up  for  a  derned  fool, 
on  first  sight — an'  I  wan't  sold  much!  Ef  you  hain't 
got  no  more  sense  nor  to  git  mad  'bout  trifles,  you'll 
have  many  a  long  day  ter  wait  'fore  you'll  be  called 
on  again  to  visit  this  camp — an'  it's  goin'  to  be  a  right 
lively  camp  in  the  spring,  you  bet !  I  did  perpose  to 
ask  yer  ter  take  a  drink,  bein'  as  how  it's  late,  an'  you 
must  a'  had  a  purty  good  ride  over  the  mounting ; 
but  now,  I'd  jest  see  yer  blessed  first.  Thar's  the 
door;  git!  you  derned,  ornary,  wizened,  contemptible 
little  scrub,  an'  don't  come  foolin'  around  here  no 
more,  ef  yer  don't  want  ter  git  hurt!     Git!" 

I  took  his  advice,  and  "got"  without  another  word, 
just  as  the  gray  dawn  began  to  streak  the  sky  over 
beyond  the  Washoe  mountains. 

There  they  come  at  last!  I  can  see  their  horses 
winding  around  the  ridge  across  the  cailon  yonder. 
Bill,  unpack  the  basket,  and  have  everything  in  readi- 
ness for  the  lunch.  Hunters,  fishermen  and  clergy- 
men generally  have  powerful  appetites. 


CHAPTER  X. 

AROUND  THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 

The  Fountain  of  Youth. — Hunting  for  Trouble. — Mike  Durfee's  Snake. — The 
Days  of  '49. — A  Tragedy  in  the  Redwoods. — When  shall  We  Three  Meet 
Again  ? — Story  of  the  Champion  Mule  of  El  Dorado. — How  a  Green  Down- 
Easter  Struck  it  Rich. — Result  of  Misplaced  Confidence. — Sensational  Re- 
ports Deprecated. — Out-Door  Amusements  in  Arizona. — An  Alarm  in 
Camp. — The  Mountains  by  Moonlight. — Parting  under  the  Madrono. — 
Adios  ! 

Nowhere  on  earth,  I  think,  does  one  so  relish 
food  and  drink  as  around  the  camp-fire.  On  the 
treeless  plains  of  the  West  and  Southwest,  in  the 
rugged,  Indian-haunted  mountains  of  Western  Texas 
and  Central  Arizona,  even  on  the  bare,  hot  sands  of 
the  deserts  of  Nevada  and  Southern  California,  there 
is  always  a  weird  attraction,  and  a  sense  of  hearty 
enjoyment  in  the  evenieg  around  the  camp-fire. 
Some  of  the  happiest  hours  of  my  life,  many  of  them, 
I  may  say,  have  been  spent  around  the  camp-fire,  and 
ever  and  anon  the  old  lonmnor  for  wild  life  and  dan- 
gerous  adventure  comes  over  me  even  in  the  busiest 
hours  of  city  life,  and  the  desire  to  shake  civilization 
and  all  its  comforts  and  refinements,  and  go  back  to 
the  wilderness,  becomes  almost  uncontrolable.  The 
charm  of  danger  is  year  by  year  being  lost  to  camp 
life  in  California,  but  exciting  adventure  may  still  be 
found,  and  there  is  nothing  equal  to  a  glowing  camp- 
fire  to  bring  out  anecdotes  of  the  past  and  re-awaken 
(220) 


CAMPING    OUT.  20I 

the  recollections  of  the  wild  life  of  other  days ;  or,  as 
Beranger  would  express  it : 

"  The  bra\e  days  when  we  were  twenty-one." 

And  of  all  places  on  earth  for  solid  comfort  in  camp 
there  is  none  like  California.  The  pure,  dry,  mount- 
ain air  is  always  so  healthful  and  invigorating,  and  the 
nice,  dry  ground  is  worth  all  the  spring  mattresses  in 
Christendom  for  a  bed.  And  then  it  never  rains  in  Cali- 
fornia during  the  spring,  summer  and  autumn  months. 
Given  a  shot-gun,  a  rifle,  fishing-tackle,  blankets  to 
sleep  in,  a  frying-pan,  coffee-pot  and  cups,  a  little 
flour,  salt,  pepper  and  a  few  sundries,  and  a  bunch  of 
matches,  and,  with  two  or  three  jolly  companions — it 
is  none  the  worse  if  the  party  is  half  made  up  of  ladies, 
so  that  they  are  possessed  of  sense  and  know  how  to 
rough  it  and  enjoy  it — your  "  outfit"  is  complete. 

"  Better  fifty  years  of  Europe  than  a  cycle  of  Cathay." 

Better  one  month  of  camp  life  in  the  California 
mountains,  than  years  on  years  of  life  at  the  fashion- 
able "watering-places"  and  "summer  resorts"  of  the 
East  and  Europe. 

Ponce  de  Leon  sought  in  vain  for  the  Fountain  of 
Youth  in  the  swamps  and  forests  of  Florida — he  was 
looking"  in  the  wrong  direction.  I  found  the  fountain 
years  ago  up  in  a  quiet  canon,  under  the  madrono 
trees,  in  the  mountains  of  California ;  and  every  time 
I  drink  of  its  waters  and  camp  by  its  side,  Time,  at 
my  bidding,  turns  back  in  his  flight,  and  I  am  only  a 
boy  again. 

We  lunched  with  such  hearty  satisfaction,  and  found 
the  mountain  air  and  scenery  so  much  to  our  liking, 


222  AROUND    THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 

that  we  were  loth  to  leave  it  and  return  to  the  city. 
So  we  took  a  vote  on  the  proposition,  decided  to  go 
into  camp  for  the  night  at  least,  and,  having  dispatched 
Bill  to  Calistoga  for  blankets  and  cooking  apparatus, 
proceeded  to  make  ourselves  at  home. 

There  are  always  people  who  will  go  poking  around 
hunting  for  trouble  and  disagreeable  things  wherever 
they  happen  to  be.  Curse  all  such  people,  I  say ! 
What  is  the  use  of  it?  " Sufficient  unto  the  day  is 
the  evil  thereof,"  is  the  wisest  saying  between  the  lids 
of  the  bible,  and  I  travel  on  it.  We  had  one  of  these 
people  in  our  party,  and  he  knocked  around  in  the 
bushes  until  he  found  a  rattlesnake.  It  did  not  bite 
anybody,  and  was  not  looking  for  anybody  to  bite, 
and  if  it  had  not  been  stirred  up  with  a  stick  and  set 
to  rattling,  no  one  would  have  known  it  was  there. 
As  it  was,  it  frightened  the  ladies  and  destroyed  the 
pleasure  of  the  party  for  hours.  More  fool  the  man 
who  found  it. 

I  can  recall  one  incident  in  my  lifetime,  and  one 
only,  in  which  snakes  had  a  healthy  effect  and  ren- 
dered a  service  to  humanity.  Some  ten  years  ago 
the  San  Francisco  bar  numbered  amongf  its  members 
many  jolly,  good  fellows,  who  were  given  to  free  in- 
dulgence in  the  pleasures  of  the  table,  and  not  un- 
frequently  passed  the  limits  of  prudence,  and  wrestling 
too  ardently  with  old  King  Alcohol,  were  thrown  and 
severely  hurt.  Among  them  was  Mike  Durfee,  now 
a  strictly  temperate  man,  a  successful  lawyer  and  an 
exemplary  citizen,  after  nearly  all  his  old  associates 
have   succumbed   and   passed  away.      When    Mike 


DICK  D  UK  FEE. 


22 


"went  on  a  tear"  it  was  a  long  and  desperate  one, 
and  its  result  was  a  foregone  conclusion.  The  report- 
ers for  the  daily  press  of  San  Francisco  were  sitting 
one  morning  in  their  special  quarter  in  the  Police 
Court  room,  taking  notes  of  the  trials  and  sentences 
of  the  thieves,  vagrants,  burglars,  wife- whippers,  drunk- 
ards, and  all  other  offscourings  of  humanity  who  at- 
tend the  daily  levees  of  his  honor,  when  Mike,  who,  in 
pursuance  of  his  time-honored  custom,  had  been  "run- 
ning all  night,"  and  was  just  on  the  debatable  ground 
between  sudden  reform  and  delirium  tremens,  came 
in,  and  leaning  up  against  the  partition  which  separ- 
ates the  reporters  from  that  of  the  shysters,  fell  fast 
asleep.  Seeing  him  in  that  position,  the  writer 
reached  over  to  the  chair  always  occupied  by  poor 

old  Dick  R (Rattlesnake  Dick,  as  we  used  to  call 

him  by  way  of  affectionate  endearment,  was  a  special 
favorite  with  all  the  reporters  of  that  day),  and  pulled 
out  a  little  roll  of  curled  hair  from  the  cushion.  This 
hair  was  rolled  into  a  hard  wad,  about  the  size  of  a 
large  marrowfat  pea,  and  dropped  quietly  inside  of 
Mike's  shirt-collar,  where  it  lodged  without  in  the 
least  disturbing  his  slumbers.  The  morning  wore  on 
and  the  business  of  the  day  was  nearly  concluded, 
and  still  Mike  slept  on.  At  last  a  case  was  called,  in 
which  Mike  was  interested,  or  supposed  to  be,  and 
the  bailiff  in  attendance  shook  him  by  the  shoulder, 
with  the  emphatic  adjuration,  "Here  Mike,  wake  up; 
your  case  is  called!  "  Mike  awoke  with  a  start,  and 
stepping  out  promptly  in  front  of  the  Judge's  desk, 
threw  out  his  right  arm  in  oratorical  style,  began — 


224  AROUND    THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 

"  Your  honor,  I  propose "     At  that  instant  the  ball 

of  curled  hair,  which  had  been  confined  between  his 
shirt-collar  and  his  neck,  set  free  by  the  change  in  his 
position,  commenced  rolling  down  his  chest  upon  the 
unprotected  cuticle,  like  a  spider  with  ten  thousand 
sharp,  clawed  feet,  going  after  his  prey  in  a  hurry. 
Mike  felt  it,  and  every  nerve  in  his  system  thrilled  in 
response,  as  if  struck  by  the  shock  from  a  galvanic 
battery.  Springing  about  four  feet  clear  of  the  floor, 
he  yelled  in  wild  despair,  "Whoop!  Hell's  Blazes! 
Snakes!"  and  came  down  with  a  jar  which  shook 
the  whole  room,  with  hair  on  end,  eyes  in  frenzy 
rolling,  and  face  of  the  hue  of  death;  fairly  gasp- 
ing for  breath,  he  snatched  at  his  collar  convulsively, 
tore  it  open,  and  following  the  descending  serpent 
with  desperate  haste,  tore  every  button  off  his  shirt 
bosom  in  succession,  grasping  the  dread  monster  at 
last  as  it  paused  in  its  career  at  its  waist,  where  his 
pants  were  cinched  so  tightly  that  it  could  go  no  fur- 
ther, drew  it  forth,  with  hand  trembling  so  that  he 
could  scarcely  hold  it,  and  sank  faint,  sick  and  help- 
less into  a  chair.  Meantime  the  commotion  in  the 
Court  room  was  something  indescribable.  The  Judge 
sprang  to  his  feet  in  astonishment  and  ill- concealed 
apprehension;  the  spectators  and  members  of  the  bar, 
under  the  impression  that  Mike  had  gone  suddenly 
crazy,  or  been  violently  attacked  with  the  delirutm 
tremens,  were  seized  with  a  panic,  and  upsetting  chairs, 
benches  and  each  other  in  their  haste  to  get  out  of 
his  reach,  fled  from  the  room,  as  the  demon  fled  from 
the  chamber  where  the  fish  of  Tobit  lay — probably 


"SNAKES  IN  HIS   BOOTS."  22r 

holding  his  nose  as  he  did  so — while  to  crown  the 
uproar  and  confusion,  a  tall  policeman  who  had  been 
sitting  with  his  feet  braced  against  the  large  upright 
stove,  and  his  chair  tipped  back,  straightening  himself 
out  in  his  effort  to  rise  and  join  in  the  flight,  sent  the 
stove  end  over  end  on  the  floor,  the  long  pipe  follow- 
ing suit,  and  coming  down  on  the  affrighted  crowd 
joint  by  joint,  flinging  clouds  of  sticky  ccal-soot  and 
smoke  in  all  directions.  When  the  stampede  was 
over  at  last,  and  Mike  had  so  far  recovered  from  his 
attack  of  snakes  as  to  be  able  to  comprehend  the  situ- 
ation, he  arose,  tottered  over  to   the  reporters'  desk, 

and  thus  freed  his  mind:   "By ,  if  I  murdered  the 

man  who  put  that  centipede  in  my  bosom,  any  jury  in 
Christendom  would  render  a  verdict  of  justifiable  hom- 
icide !     But,  boys,  it's  my  next  deal,  and  I'll  be 

if  you  ever  get  a  chance  to  play  that  on  me  again ! 
If  it  had  got  down  into  my  boots  I'd  never  have  drawn 
another  sane  breath  so  long  as  I  lived.  As  it  is,  I'll 
never  draw  another  drunken  one,  damn  you  !  " 

And  Mike  kept  his  word  like  a  man,  stopped  drink- 
ing entirely,  devoted  himself  to  the  practice  of  his 
profession  industriously,  rose  step  by  step  in  public 
estimation,  and  now  holds  an  important  office,  to 
which  he  was  elected  by  the  votes  of  his  life-long 
friends  and  acquaintances,  many  of  whom  to  this  day 
tell  with  infinite  gusto  and  roars  of  laughter  the  story 
of  Mike  Durfee's  snake. 

We  built  a  glorious  camp-fire  in  the  little  opening 
like  an  artificial  clearing  in  front  of  the  great  madrono, 
and  with  the  remnants  of  our  lunch  and  the  spoils  of 

15 


225  AROUND   THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 

the  forest  and  mountain  streams,  got  up  a  supper  that 
a  prince  might  envy.  Did  you  ever  roll  a  mountain 
trout  in  wet  paper  or  green  leaves  and  roast  him  like 
a  potato  in  the  hot  ashes?  If  not,  you  have  yet  to 
learn  the  first  lesson  in  gastronomic  enjoyment. 
Soyer  was  a  fool !  I  will  match  a  California  mount- 
ain trout  so  cooked  against  all  the  "made  dishes"  he 
ever  produced,  and  trust  to  any  jury  on  earth  for  a 
verdict  in  my  favor ;  no,  in  favor  of  the  trout,  I  mean. 
After  supper,  when  we  had  made  up  our  quarters  for 
the  night  and  gathered  ourselves  comfortably  around 
the  blazing  camp-fire,  the  fun  commenced.  Few  of 
the  stories  brought  out  on  such  occasions  will  bear 
the  test  of  repetition  in  print.  It  wants  the  mountain 
air,  the  wild,  romantic  surroundings,  the  jolly  com- 
panionship and  good  fellowship  to  give  them  the 
hearty  zest  which  makes  them  so  enjoyable  at  the 
moment.  How  quickly  the  "forty-niners"  go  back 
to  the  mining- camps  and  the  wild  scenes  of  those 
early  days,  and  live  over  again  the  life  of  the  pioneer 
gold-hunters,  who  poured  in  a  torrent  over  the  Sierra, 
and,  in  an  almost  incredible  space  of  time,  searched 
every  canon,  nook  and  crevice  of  the  mountains  for 
the  precious  metal,  tore  up  the  soil  of  every  hillside 
from  Siskiyou  to  Fresno,  marring  and  disfiguring  the 
whole  face  of  nature  for  all  time,  and  then  leaving 
their  cities  and  villages,  which  had  sprung  up  like 
Jonah's  gourd  in  a  single  night,  to  fall  to  decay  and 
slowly  disappear  from  sight,  and  almost  from  memory 
even,  scattered  far  and  wide  over  the  whole  earth, 
little    dreaming    of   the  true  wealth   of   El    Dorado 


V ANITAS   VANITATUM!  2„7 

wliich  they  left,  untouched  and  undeveloped,  for  a 
priceless  heritage  to  those  less  adventurous  souls 
who  should  come  slowly  plodding  after  them  in 
other  years.  Of  all  that  mighty  host,  not  more 
than  one  in  a  hundred  remains  in  California  to-day. 
In  neglected  graves,  in  the  red  earth  of  the  Sierra, 
in  the  shadow  of  the  cross  of  Calvary,  under  the 
laurel  and  willows  of  Lone  Mountain,  in  the  great 
depths  of  the  sea,  in  the  trenches  of  innumerable  bat- 
tlefields, in  far-off  Australia  or  Southern  Africa,  in 
Alaska,  in  Arizona,  in  Mexico,  in  Nicaragua,  they 
sleep  their  last  sleep. 

Wherever  gold  was  to  be  sought  for,  wildernesses 
to  be  reclaimed,  suffering  to  be  endured,  blood  to  be 
shed,  they  wandered,  and  fought,  and  died  by  thou- 
sands. They  were  a  rough  set — ready  with  the  knife 
and  the  revolver,  free-handed  and  liberal  withal  to  the 
last  degree — rich  to-day,  poor  to-morrow,  hopeful 
always,  and  game  to  the  last  When  the  placers  of 
California  are  exhausted,  and  the-orchard  and  vineyard 
cover  every  hillside,  the  stories  of  their  reckless  ad- 
ventures and  wild  career  will  be  repeated  again  and 
again,  and  listened  to  with  interest  by  every  class  in 
the  community.  "The  days  of  '49"  will  ever  be 
memorable  as  marking  the  most  striking  and  wonder- 
ful epoch  in  the  history  of  the  Pacific  coast.  After 
them  everything  will  seem  stale,  and  flat,  and  tame  to 
the  youthful  reader  of  history. 

As  the  hours  of  evening  wore  on,  one  and  an- 
other took  up  the  story  of  pioneer  life,  and  many  an 
anecdote,  new   to  me   and   hitherto    unprinted,  was 


22g  AROUND    THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 

related   by   eye-witnesses.     Among   them   was   the 
following-: 

After  the  first  rush  to  the  placers,  and  when  the 
building  of  permanent  towns  had  fairly  commenced, 
lumber  fit  for  building  purposes  became  in  great  de- 
mand, and  in  the  forest  near  the  sea  coast,  where 
transportation  was  readily  obtainable,  immense  camps 
sprung  up,  and  the  scenes  of  the  flush  times  in  the 
mines  were  repeated.  Lumber  was  worth  hundreds 
of  dollars  per  thousand  feet,  and  money  was  gained 
and  lost  with  a  lavishness  and  rapidity  almost  incred- 
ible in  these  days.  In  one  camp  in  the  redwood  for- 
ests of  Humboldt,  not  far  from  the  present  town  of 
Eureka,  there  were  some  six  hundred  men  at  work, 
and  business  was  lively,  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 
There  were  two  "stores"  at  which  articles  for  miners' 
and  lumbermen's  use — heavy  clothing,  groceries,  pro- 
visions, and  notably  whisky  and  cards — were  dispensed 
at  round  prices.  Every  store  in  those  days  was  a 
saloon,  and  a  gambling- house  as  well;  and  poker, 
monte,  faro  and  fights  were  the  order  of  the  day  and 
night.  It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  prosperous 
gambler  on  a  Sunday  morning  to  knock  the  head  out 
of  a  barrel  of  whisky,  put  a  tin  cup  in  it,  and  set  it  in 
the  middle  of  the  store,  for  all  comers  to  help  them- 
selves free  of  charge.  And  it  was  the  dearest  whisky 
man  ever  drank  at  that,  for  nine  out  of  every  ten  who 
partook  of  it  left  from  ten  to  a  thousand  times  its 
nominal  value  at  the  gambler's  bank  before  he  went 
home  that  night.  The  feast  of  Belshazzar  was  nothing 
to  the  wild  carousals  which  took  place  sometimes  in 


KANOFFSKY.  22g 

that  camp.  There  were  six  of  us  in  our  cabin — no 
two  from  the  same  State,  I  think — and  a  pretty  good 
crowd  we  were  generally.  But  whisky  and  gambling 
will  tell  in  the  end,  and  they  did  on  us.  Among  the 
party  was  one  tall,  finely-built,  athletic  man,  of  some 
twenty-eight  or  thirty  years  of  age,  who  went  by  the 
name  of  "Kanoffsky."  The  name  would  indicate  a 
Polish  Jew,  but  he  was  evidently  nothing  of  the  sort, 
and  the  name  was  like  that  of  half  the  others  in  camp, 
merely  assumed  through  caprice  or  the  desire  to  con- 
ceal identity  while  the  possessor  was  laboring  to  re- 
trieve a  broken  fortune  or  a  ruined  character.  I 
always  thought  that  he  was  a  collegian,  probably  a 
graduate  of  Harvard  or  Yale,  and  he  was  undoubt- 
edly a  New  Englander  of  good  family.  Curiously 
enough,  his  boon  companion  was  a  rough,  uncouth, 
uneducated  Missourian,  who  went  by  the  common 
nickname  of  "Pike,"  about  the  last  man  in  the  world 
one  would  think  to  attract  the  sympathy  and  secure 
the  confidence  of  an  educated  gentleman,  such  as 
"  Kanoffsky"  evidently  was.  But  misfortune  and 
mining  excitements  make  strange  bed-fellows.  Their 
intimacy  was  casually  remarked  upon  by  everybody 
in  camp,  but  in  those  days  we  thought  little  of  any 
social  phenomena — we  had  little  time  or  inclination 
to  think  long  and  seriously  about  anything — and  for 
a  long  time  nothing  important  seemed  to  come  of  it. 
But  at  last  an  event  occurred  which  startled  and  ex- 
cited the  whole  camp.  One  dark,  stormy  Sunday 
night  in  the  mid- winter  season,  when  the  wind  roared 
through  the  forest  in  broken,  savage  blasts,  and  the 


2*«3 


AROUND    THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRi 


rain  fell  in  torrents,  at  briet  intervals  snatches  of  star- 
light intervening,  Kanoffsky  and  Pike  were  absent 
until  far  past  midnight,  and  we  had  all  retired  to  our 
bunks  with  a  certain  undefined  feeling  of  impending 
trouble,  which  every  one  has  felt  at  times,  but  which 
no  one  can  ever  fully  explain  and  account  for.  At  last 
Pike,  with  an  uncertain  step,  was  heard  coming  in 
alone.  He  seated  himself  before  the  huge  log  fire, 
which  had  burned  well  down,  but  still  gave  off  a 
ruddy  glow  from  its  great  heap  of  fresh  coals,  par- 
tially lighting  up  the  entire  cabin,  and  drawing  off  his 
wet  boots,  remained  toasting  his  feet  for  some  time 
in  moody  silence.  To  inquiries  as  to  the  whereabouts 
of  Kanoffsky,  he  replied  somewhat  testily  that  he  did 
not  know:  that  he  had  left  him  down  at  the  stores 
half  drunk  early  in  the  evening,  and  knew  nothing 
more  about  it.  His  manner  was  peculiar,  and  pro- 
duced the  impression  on  myself  and  companions  that 
he  had  been  in  difficulty  with  some  one,  probably 
over  some  gambling  affair,  and  was  "  out  of  sorts, "  as 
well  as  a  little  drunk.  While  he  sat  there  over  the 
fire,  one  of  our  party  got  up,  went  outside  and  brought 
in  another  back  log,  which  he  threw  upon  the  fire  to 
prevent  its  burning  out  entirely  before  morning,  and 
compelling  us  to  rekindle  it  with  matches  and  wet 
wood — a  task  of  some  difficulty.  As  he  turned  back 
from  the  fire,  he  remarked,  "I  stumbled  over  some- 
thing outside  there  which  I  cannot  make  out !  It  felt 
like  a  bag  of  shot!"  Pike  looked  up  uneasily  but 
said  nothing.  The  man  who  had  been  out  took  a 
brand  from  the  fire  and  stepping  back  to   the  door, 


FOUL   PLAY.  2rl\ 

stooped  down  and  examined  the  object  over  which  he 
had  stumbled.  With  a  puzzled  air  he  lifted  it  up  and 
brought  it  inside.  It  was,  as  he  had  said,  like  a  bag  of 
shot,  and  proved  to  be  a  shot-bag  filled  with  gold- 
dust.  There  was  blood  in  great  blotches  on  the  bao;. 
We  all  sat  up  in  our  bunks  to  look  at  it,  and  the  in- 
quiry broke  from  each  in  succession  as  to  whom  it 
belonged. 

"  Well,  damn  you,  if  you  all  must  know,  it's  mine!" 
growled  out  Pike  at  last. 

"Where  the  mischief  did  you-  get  such  a  bag  of 
dust  as  that  ?  "  said  one. 

Pike,  who  now  seemed  now  to  be  half  drunk  and 
half  crazy,  replied,  "Well,  it's  none  of  your  damned 
business  anyhow ;  but  if  you  must  know,  I  got  on  a 
little  spree  down  at  the  camp,  and  some  of  us  cleaned 
out  that  Jew  store." 

Starting  from  my  bunk,  I  exclaimed:  "  Boys,  there 
has  been  murder  here,  sure  as  heaven.  That  old  Jew 
and  his  son  never  submitted  to  be  robbed  while  they 
had  the  breath  of  life  left!  Pike,  you  must  consider 
yourself  a  prisoner." 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  my  mouth,  when 
Pike  sprang  up,  and  grasping  me  by  the  throat  hurled 
me  back  upon  the  bunk  with  a  savage  imprecation, 
swearing  that  he  would  kill  me  on  the  instant  if  I  did 
not  take  them  back.  All  three  of  my  companions 
were  on  him  at  once,  and  thoucrh  he  stru^crled  like  a 
madman,  as  he  was,  we  got  him  down  at  last  and 
tied  him.  Then  he  suddenly  changed  his  tune,  and 
tried  to  laugh  it  off.     It  was  only  a  joke,  he  said,  and 


2^2  AROUND    THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 

nobody  had  been  hurt.     Untie  him,  and  he  would  go 
back  at  once  with  the  dust. 

We  were  more  convinced  than  ever  that  there  had 
been  murder,  and  one  of  the  party  volunteered  to  ride 
over  to  the  main  camp,  some  mile  and  a  half  distant, 
and  find  out  what  had  occurred,  while  the  other  three 
kept  guard  over  Pike.  He  started  off  and  was  gone 
about  two  hours.  Just  after  daybreak  he  returned 
with  a  crowd  of  companions,  all  deeply  excited.  They 
had  gone  to  the  Jew's  store,  found  it  closed  but  not 
locked  up,  and  on  entering  with  lights,  had  beheld  a 
spectacle  frightful  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  de- 
scribe. The  store  was  kept  by  a  Jew  of  some  fifty-five 
or  sixty  years  of  age,  and  his  son,  a  boy  of  eighteen  or 
nineteen,  both  of  whom  usually  slept  in  the  place. 
The  old  man  lay  on  the  floor  of  the  main  store-room, 
horribly  chopped  and  mutilated  with  a  hatchet,  his 
skull  fractured,  jaw  broken,  one  ear  chopped  off,  and 
a  great  number  of  cuts  on  his  head,  face  and  breast, 
but  still  breathing.  The  floor  was  covered  with  blood, 
like  that  of  a  slaughter-house,  and  the  marks  of  a 
desperate  struggle  for  life  were  everywhere  visible. 
In  the  back  room  they  found  the  boy  literally  hacked 
to  pieces  and  cold  in  death.  The  drawers  had  been 
forced  open  and  rifled,  and  a  trunk,  kept  under  the 
counter  and  used  for  storing  gold  dust,  coin  and  val- 
uables, for  want  of  a  safe,  stood  smashed  open  and 
empty  on  the  floor  near  the  body  of  the  old  man,  who 
had  evidently  fallen  in  attempting  to  defend  it  from 
the  robbers,  who  had  entered  by  the  front  window 
and  rear  door  simultaneously.     The  news  spread  like 


MURDER    WILL   OUT.  0  „  ~ 

wildfire  through  the  camp,  and  in  a  short  time  Kan- 
offsky,  who  had  been  out  in  the  woods,  undoubtedly 
hiding  his  share  of  the  plunder,  was  arrested  on  his 
way  back  to  our  cabin.  The  party  arrived  at  our 
place,  provided  with  a  rope,  and  fully  prepared  to 
make  Pike  open  his  mouth,  and  tell  the  whole  story, 
or  "swing  for  it"  instanter.  At  the  sight  of  the  rope 
he  weakened,  and  related  how  it  was  all  done. 

The  party,  consisting  of  four  persons — himself,  Kan- 
offsky  and  two  others  who  had  escaped  on  horse- 
back to  the  mountains  and  were  never  arrested — 
had  planned  the  robbery  some  weeks  before,  and 
waited  patiently  for  a  dark  night  to  carry  it  into  exe- 
cution. After  the  robbery  and  murder,  Pike,  in  a 
spirit  of  recklessness  or  insanity — he  could  never  give 
any  reason  for  his  conduct — started  directly  for  our 
cabin,  intending  to  hide  the  bag  of  gold-dust  in  a  hol- 
low stump,  or  some  similar  receptacle  convenient  to 
the  place,  until  he  could  get  it  safely  inside  the  house; 
but  finding  none  in  the  darkness,  brought  it  on  until 
he  reached  the  door,  then  laid  it  down  where  it  was 
found,  and  went  in  to  think  the  matter  over  and  de- 
cide how  he  should  dispose  of  it.  Had  one  of  our 
party  not  gone  out  to  get  the  log  to  replenish  the 
fire,  it  is  probable  that  he  might  have  succeeded  in 
getting  it  hidden  after  all,  and  possibly  escaped  sus- 
picion of  being  connected  with  the  murder,  as  the  two 
of  his  companions  who  escaped  would  naturally  have 
been  credited  with  the  entire  transaction. 

A  Lynch  Court  was  organized  immediately,  Kan- 
offsky  and  Pike  tried,  found  guilty,  and  sentenced  to 


o„„  AROUND    7  HE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 

be  hanged.  All  business  was  suspended  for  the  day 
in  the  camp,  and  nothing  else  was  thought  or  talked 
of. 

Kanoffsky  denied  all  connection  with  the  affair  from 
first  to  last,  and  the  place  where  he  had  hidden  his 
share  of  the  plunder  was  never  found,  though  search 
was  made  for  it  for  years. 

A  similar  murder  was  committed  in  Tuolumne 
county  in  1851,  and  the  money,  amounting  to  several 
thousand  dollars  in  coin,  buried  by  the  murderers 
near  the  cabin.  It  was  sought  after  for  years,  but  it 
was  not  until  twenty  years  later,  in  the  summer  of 
1 87 1,  that  a  party  of  miners  sluicing  away  the  hillside 
where  the  cabin  had  stood,  unearthed  it  and  shared 
the  spoil  between  them,  all  the  original  actors  in  the 
tragedy  having  passed  away  meantime.  The  plunder 
hidden  by  Kanoffsky  may  possibly  be  unearthed  in 
some  such  manner  years,  or  centuries  even,  hence. 
When  the  execution  took  place  a  minister  was  sent 
for,  and  he  labored  earnestly  for  hours  with  the  mur- 
derers Pike  and  Kanoffsky,  but  all  in  vain — not  a  sign 
of  repentance  or  contrition  did  either  give.  Led  out 
at  last  to  the  tree  on  which  they  were  to  die,  the 
halters  were  placed  around  their  necks,  and  they  were 
asked  if  they  had  anything  more  to  say.  Pike  said 
he  had  told  the  whole  story  and  had  nothing  more  to 
say.  Kanoffsky  called  me  to  him,  and,  holding  out 
his  hand,  said,   "Well,  good  by,  old  fellow;  I  can't 

blame  you!     When  it's  all  over,  write  to  my " 

He  stopped  there,  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said, 
"No,  you  needn't  though;  it  is  better  as  it  is!    Here, 


A    WAKING  REALITY.  0  „  - 

z35 

take  this  handkerchief  out  of  my  breast-pocket,  and 
do  me  the  favor  to  tie  my  hands  securely  behind  me. 
I  might  go  up  after  the  rope  and  make  the  entertain- 
ment too  lengthy.  It  is  getting  late,  and  the  audience 
will  want  to  adjourn  as  soon  as  possible.  Please  slip 
the  knot  a  little  further  around  in  front  so  that  it  will 
come  just  under  my  ear.  All  ready  ;  now  go  on  with 
the  performance!"  The  cart  started  off  on  the  in- 
stant— down  went  both  the  men,  their  bodies  swayed 
convulsively  in  the  air  for  a  few  moments,  and  all  was 
over. 

Who  or  what  Kanoffsky  was  we  never  learned,  the 
secret  of  his  real  name  and  history  dying  with  him. 
That  night  all  hands  in  camp  went  on  a  general  spree, 
and  the  carousal  was  kept  up  until  far  towards  day- 
break. The  keeper  of  the  other  store  furnished  the 
liquor,  and  got  blind  drunk  on  it  himself  before  the 
spree  was  over.  Everybody  admitted  that  he  kept 
very  mean  liquor.  Among  the  crowd  were  two  young 
fellows,  less  intoxicated  than  the  rest,  and  they  finished 
up  the  performance  by  going  out  and  cutting  down 
the  bodies  of  Kanoffsky  and  Pike,  bringing  them  into 
the  store,  and  setting  them  them  up  against  the  wall. 
They  then  took  the  storekeeper,  propped  him  up  be- 
tween them,  and  left  him  alone  with  the  dead.  When 
he  awoke  from  his  stupor  next  morning  and  looked 
around  him,  the  face  of  a  ghastly  corpse,  with  the 
rope  still  around  its  neck,  grinned  at  him  from  either 
side ;  and  on  the  floor  at  his  feet  were  scrawled  with 
chalk  the  familiar  words :  "When  shall  we  three 
meet  again!"      He  went  out  of  that  place  on  the 


2„ 5  AROUND    THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 


0 


dead  jump,  yelling  "murder"  at  the  top  of  his  lungs, 
and  it  was  days  before  his  nerves  became  quiet  enough 
to  enable  him  to  mix  a  cocktail  with  anything  like  his 
accustomed  skill  and  neatness. 

Practical  jokes  were  common  in  those  days,  and  the 
jokers  were  by  means  fastidious  as  to  the  manner  of 
playing  them  or  their  result.  If  life  and  limb  were 
endangered,  so  much  the  better.  I  remember  a  man 
in  Placerville,  then  called  "Hangtown,"  from  numer- 
ous little  episodes  in  its  history,  which  had  resulted 
disastrously  to  parties  involved  in  them,  who  owned 
a  mule,  which  was  admitted  to  be  the  champion  animal 
for  pure,  unadulterated  viciousness  on  the  Pacific  coast. 
He  would  start  on  the  slightest  hint.  The  rattle  of  a 
tin  .pan  was  poison  to  him ;  and  in  running  away,  he 
always  made  it  a  point  to  knock  down  and  injure 
somebody.  If  he  stampeded,  and  did  not  get  a  chance 
to  kill  or  maim  some  one,  he  felt  he  had  to  account 
for  a  day  wasted,  and  would  stand  for  hours  in  deep 
dejection,  his  ears  hanging  down  limp  and  lifeless ; 
then  suddenly  rush  across  the  street,  whirl  around  and 
kick  with  all  his  might  at  a  child  or  woman,  by  way 
of  getting  even  and  making  up  for  lost  time.  It  was 
a  standing  joke  with  the  jolly  boys  of  Hangtown  to 
lend  him  to  a  party  of  newly  arrived  miners,  to  pack 
their  traps  to  some  placer  mining-camp,  and  at  the 
hour  for  starting  gather  in  front  of  the  express  office 
to  see  him  go  off  like  a  rocket,  scatter  everything 
right  and  left,  and  break  for  the  chaparral,  leaving 
the  astonished  gold- hunters  to  gather  their  traps  and 


BEWARE   OF  THE  MULE.  0  „ - 

lament  over  the  blasting  of  their  prospects  at  their 
leisure.  It  was  as  much  as  a  man's  life  was  worth  to 
go  within  reach  of  his  heels ;  and  it  was  necessary  to 
muzzle  him  to  keep  him  from  eating  everybody  who 
came  within  reach  of  his  jaws.  One  day  a  remark- 
ably green  specimen  of  the  veritable  "down-east 
Yank"  came  into  Hangtown  from  the  plains,  and  in- 
quired for  the  nearest  and  best  place  to  make  a  for- 
tune in  the  diggings.  He  was  kindly  directed  to  a 
promising  gulch,  and,  as  he  was  hard  up,  the  use  of 
the  champion  mule  to  pack  his  grub,  tools,  blankets 
and  traps  was  generously  tendered  him.  He  pro- 
posed to  start  at  eight  o'clock  next  morning,  and  all 
the  jokers  in  town,  comprising  the  larger  share  of  the 
male  population  of  the  place,  were  on  hand  at  the  ap- 
pointed time  to  see  him  off.  Promptly  at  the  time,  the 
greenhorn  from  the  land  of  steady  habits  made  his 
appearance,  and  commenced  to  pack  the  mule.  The 
heavy  aparejo  was  placed  on  his  back  and  securely 
cinched  ;  flour,  beef,  bacon,  etc.,  etc.,  strapped  on  that, 
and  then  a  miscellaneous  collection  of  pans,  kettles, 
shovels,  picks,  etc.,  etc.,  corded  on  top  of  all,  and  the 
load  was  completed.  Up  to  this  time  the  mule  had 
stood  there  as  quiet  as  a  lamb,  but  the  fun,  as  all  save 
the  greenhorn  in  that  goodly  company  well  knew,  was 
about  to  commence.  The  owner  of  the  mule  invited 
all  hands  to  take  a  drink,  at  two  bits  a  glass,  and  the 
invitation  was  cheerfully  accepted.  They  all  shook 
hands  with  the  victim,  and  bid  him  God  speed  on  his 
journey  as  he  came  out  of  the  saloon  and  made  ready 
to  start.     The  piazza  and  sidewalk  were  crowded,  and 


2„g  AROUND    THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 

everybody  was  ready  to  yell  at  the  moment  the  sig- 
nal was  given.  Judge  of  the  surprise,  indignation  and 
disgust  which  took  possession  of  the  crowd,  when 
they  saw  that  infamous  mule  walk  off  like  a  pet  lamb 
with  that  confiding  victim  of  their  pleasantry,  and  dis- 
appear in  the  distance  without  so  much  as  giving  a 
snort,  a  kick,  or  even  a  parting  look  behind  him  at 
the  friends  and  companions  of  his  youth !  The  owner 
of  the  mule  watched  him  until  he  disappeared  over 
the  hill,  then  invited  all  hands  in  to  take  another 
drink.  He  was  dead  beat,  dumbfounded  and  non- 
plussed. What  influence  could  have  been  at  work  on 
the  brute  to  induce  him  to  thus  suddenly  go  back  upon 
every  tradition  of  his  race,  and  forfeit  his  long  and 
well-earned  reputation,  he  could  not  for  the  life  of  him 
imagine,  and  he  got  blind  drunk  while  puzzling  his 
mind  over  the  problem. 

It  was  noon  when  the  greenhorn  reached  the  gulch 
to  which  he  had  been  directed,  and  presented  a  note 
from  the  owner  of  the  mule  to  his  partner,  who  was 
mining  there  in  a  claim,  which  had  formerly  paid  hand- 
somely, but  was  then  nearly  worked  out.  The  wink 
went  around  the  mining  party  when  the  letter  of  in- 
troduction was  read,  and  on  the  innocent  victim  in- 
quiring for  a  "  first-rate  spot  to  dig  out  the  gold  in  big 
chunks,"  he  was  directed  to  a  tree  up  on  the  side 
hill,  some  two  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
gulch,  as  a  first-rate  point  at  which  to  stick  up  the 
usual  notice  and  commence.  The  victim  meant  busi- 
ness. He  did  not  propose  to  waste  any  time  in  look- 
ing around,  and  at  his  request  one  of  the  party  wrote 


AN  UNEXPECTED  FIND.  „q_ 

him  out  a  mining-claim  notice,  which  he  at  once  posted 
on  the  tree  as  directed.  There  was  not  the  trace  of 
a  "color"  anywhere  near  that  tree.  In  fact,  it  was 
evident  to  the  eye  of  a  professional  miner  at  a  glance 
that  gold  would  never  be  found  there.  But  the  green- 
horn, in  blissful  ignorance,  pulled  off  his  coat,  rolled 
up  his  sleeves,  and  went  in  at  once  to  dig  a  prospect- 
ing hole.  The  party  in  the  gulch  below  saw  him 
gradually  sink  down  into  the  earth  and  disappear,  as 
hour  after  hour  he  plied  the  pick  and  shovel  with 
sturdy  arm  and  determined  will,  and  many  were  the 
"winks  and  nods,  and  wreathed  smiles,"  to  say  noth- 
ing of  broad  grins  and  hearty  guffaws  which  went 
around  at  his  expense.  About  four  p.  m.  they  heard 
a  shout  from  the  prospecting  hole  in  which  he  had 
disappeared,  and  a  moment  later  he  came  out  with  a 
bound  like  a  deer,  and  yelling  like  a  madman,  came 
down  the  face  of  the  hill  twenty  feet  at  a  jump,  hold- 
ing high  above  his  head  a  nugget,  or  "chispa,"  of  pure 
gold,  weighing  over  $900.  All  was  excitement  in  the 
camp  in  a  minute.  The  chispa  was  examined  and  its 
character  decided  at  once.  Then  they  examined  the 
hole,  and  decided  that  he  had  struck  upon  a  pocket,  or 
seam,  of  decayed  quartz,  where  the  gold  set  free  had 
not  been  washed,  and  had  remained  undisturbed  in  its 
place.  Such  pockets  often  paid  enormously.  A  lucky 
Irishman  once  found  one  near  where  the  Catholic  Or- 
phan Asylum  now  stands,  on  the  hill  above  the  town 
of  Grass  Valley,  took  out  a  wheelbarrow-load  of  gold 
in  a  few  hours,  went  raving  mad  over  his  suddenly 
acquired  wealth,  and  died  in  the  State  Insane  Asylum. 


2 4Q  AROUND    THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 

Even  as  late  as  October,  1871,  such  a  pocket  was 
struck  by  a  drunken  Swede,  near  Georgetown,  El 
Dorado  county,  and  he  took  out  $100,000  in  a  single 
day,  then  went  on  a  drunk,  which  he  has  not  yet  got 
over. 

Such  pockets  are  good  things  to  have.  The  com- 
pany in  the  gulch,  in  which  the  owner  of  the  mule  was 
a  lar^e  stockholder,  after  some  baro-ainincr  bought  the 
claim  for  $10,000,  paid  him  down  in  gold-dust  and 
orders  on  their  partners,  and  hurried  him  off  for 
Placerville  early  next  morning,  lest  he  should  repent 
of  his  bargain  and  want  to  back  out.  Next  morninof 
they  were  at  work  there  bright  and  early,  while  he 
was  collecting  his  money  in  Placerville,  and  getting 
ready  to  "go  down  to  the  Bay" — i.  c,  to  visit  San 
Francisco.  This  was  on  Wednesday.  The  mule  was 
delivered  to  his  delighted  owner,  and,  in  consideration 
of  his  good  services,  enjoyed  tall  feed  in  a  livery- 
stable  for  the  rest  of  the  week.  His  proprietor, 
anxious  to  inspect  his  new  source-  of  untold  wealth, 
hired  a  horse  and  started  at  once  for  the  gulch. 

On  Saturday  he  returned  with  a  face  as  long  as  the 
moral  law,  and  black  as  a  thunder-cloud.  The  party 
who  purchased  the  victim's  claim,  himself  included, 
had  worked  it  for  three  days  in  succession,  and  given 
the  whole  side  hill  a  thorough  prospecting.  They 
found  two  small  nuggets,  aggregating  about  $12,  the 
first  day ;  nothing  on  the  second ;  and  the  third  day 
was  even  as  the  one  before  it.  They  were  sold,  bilked, 
swindled,  wronged,  out  and  injured  to  the  tune  of 
$10,000.     What  became  of  the  greenhorn  they  could 


DGUBTFUL   GREENNESS.  2.j 

never  discover,  and  to  this  day  they  have  the  impres- 
sion very  strong  in  their  minds  that  he  was  a  "fraud 
from  the  word  go,"  never  saw  Massachusetts  in  his 
life,  and  had  put  up  the  whole  job  on  an  unsuspecting 
and  confiding  community.  If  he  had  ever  visited 
Hangtown  again,  the  place  would  have  earned  an 
additional  claim  to  its  popular  designation.  But  that 
guilty  mule  received  his  reward.  On  the  morning 
following  the  return  of  his  affectionate  proprietor  from 
the  gulch,  he  was  found  in  his  stall  with  his  back 
broken.  It  was  suesrested  that  he  had  dislocated  his 
vertebrae  in  the  vain  effort  to  kick  a  fly  off  the  end  of 
his  nose  with  his  hind  feet,  or  in  attempting  to  reach 
the  roof  of  the  stable  with  his  heels,  there  being  noth- 
ing else  in  reach  for  him  to  exercise  his  strength  upon 
in  a  playful  manner;  but  his  heart-broken  owner  knew 
better,  and  wisely  kept  his  own  counsel.  As  an  ex- 
pert and  a  life-long  advocate  of  the  decencies  and 
amenities  of  life,  I  give  my  unqualified  professional 
opinion  that  it  was  done  with  a  club — and  served  him 
right.  A  few  such  examples  as  that  unworthy  mule 
afforded  would  utterly  dissipate  and  destroy  all  one's 
confidence  and  trust  in  human  nature. 

Rough  practical  jokers  though  these  old  miners  and 
frontiersmen  always  are,  they  are  proverbially  sensi- 
tive to  newspaper  criticism,  and  ready  at  all  times  to 
resent  any  liberty  taken  with  their  names  or  reputa- 
tions. In  an  earlier  chapter  I  have  related  how  the 
man  who  fell  from  the  roof  of  a  three-story  building 
on  the  corner  of  Montgomery  and  California  streets, 
in  San  Francisco,  compelled  me  to  retract  the  asser- 


2A2  AROUND    THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 

tion  that,  as  he  fell  past  the  second  story  window,  he, 
seeing  a  party  inside  playing  seven  up,  and  noticing 
that  the  dealer  was  turning  the  Jack  from  the  bottom 
of  the  deck,  called  out  ''None  of  that!"  It  is  ten 
to  one  that  if  the  owner  of  that  black-hearted  mule 
is  still  living,  and  ever  reads  the  above  truthful  account 
of  his  adventure,  he  will  sue  me  for  damages  for  libel 
on  account  of  the  insinuation  as  to  the  manner  of  the 
death  of  the  animal. 

It  is  only  two  or  three  years  since  an  old  and  val- 
ued friend,  a  kind-hearted,  energetic  and  determined 
frontiersman,  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  many  an  act 
of  true  politeness  and  hospitality  in  a  country  where 
such  words  have  something  more  than  a  conventional 
meaning,  wrote  to  me  as  follows  : 

Wickenburg,  Arizona, ,  186-. 

Dear  Col.: — We  have  had  a  very  unpleasant  affair 
here  this  week.  Dick  Snelling,  whom  you  will  re- 
member, got  on  a  spree,  and  being  told  that  a  Chileno, 
or  a  Portuguese,  had  threatened  his  life,  got  a  shot- 
gun and  started  hunting  him  on  the  street.  He  un- 
fortunately met  a  man  who  looked  like  the  man  he 
was  hunting  for,  and  shot  him  dead,  and  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  moment  scalped  him.  Now,  you 
know  that  I  never  favored  scalping  white  men,  but 
Dick  is  as  good  a  fellow  as  ever  lived,  and  if  he  had 
not  been  drunk  he  would  not  have  done  it.  He  has 
got  a  nice  family,  and  for  his  sake  and  for  theirs  I 
would  not  like  to  see  an  exaggerated  account  of  the 
affair  get  into  the  papers.  Will  you  oblige  by  seeing 
that  no  sensational  account  of  it  is  given  in  San  Fran- 
cisco ?  Your  friend, 


BY  THE   LIGHT  OF   THE   MOON.  „  ,  , 

-to 
WillinQf  to  oblige  a  friend  at  all  times.  I  o-ave  merely 
the  simple  facts,  without  displayed  headings  as  com- 
ments, and  all  was  lovely 

The  camp  at  last  is  quiet ;  the  last  story  has  been 
told,  and  the  tellers,  one  by  one,  all  save  myself,  have 
dropped  off  into  the  arms  of  sleep.  All  is  silence  in 
the  mountains.  Not  a  breath  of  breeze  disturbs  the 
foliage  of  the  trees,  and  outside  the  camp  not  a  liv- 
ing object  is  to  be  seen.  The  moon,  which  had  risen 
over  the  eastern  mountains,  floods  valley  and  hill, 
forest  and  mountain,  with  golden  light,  beautifying 
and  glorifying  the  whole  landscape  with  its  touch. 
The  glassy  green  leaves  of  the  great  madrono  over- 
head orlow  and  glisten  in  the  moonlight  like  a  cascade 
of  molten  silver,  and  the  dark  laurels  beyond  the 
canon  are  transformed  into  a  golden-foliaged  grove, 
such  as  glitter,  rank  on  rank,  by  the  banks  of  the 
rivers  of  Paradise 

A  dog  which  accompanied  us  on  the  expedition 
raises  his  head  from  time  to  time,  and  peers  furtively 
into  the  dense  chaparral,  uttering  a  low,  uneasy  whine. 
His  ears  are  sharper  than  ours,  and  he  is  conscious  of 
the  presence  of  an  enemy  unknown  to  us.  Suddenly 
he  springs  to  his  feet,  and,  darting  past  the  dying  fire 
to  the  edge  of  the  chaparral,  utters  a  wild,  angry  bark, 
and  in  an  instant  a  heavy  body  goes  crashing  away 
through  the  bushes,  with  a  long,  sharp  "  Yap-yap-yap- 
yah-hoo-ooo!"  From  the  hillside  above,  from  the 
canon  in  the  shadow  below,  from  rock  and  glen,  and 
glade  and  chaparral,  comes  a  quick  response ;  and  for 


244  AROUND    THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP  FIRE. 

five  minutes  it  seems  that  there  are  half  a  thousand 
instead  of  half  a  dozen  angry,  prowling  coyotes  howl- 
ing around  us.  The  infernal  chorus  dies  away  at  last, 
and  once  more  all  is  silent  in  camp  and  on  the  moun- 
tain. 

The  grey  dawn  creeps  slowly  over  the  eastern 
mountains ;  the  horizon  takes  on  the  roseate  hues  of 
the  inner  surface  of  the  sea-shell,  then  glows  with 
gold  and  royal  purple ;  and,  as  the  forest  air  is  filled 
with  the  song  of  birds,  and  all  nature  rejoices  in  the 
glory  of  the  springtime,  the  sun  rises  grandly  over 
St.  Helena,  and  the  whole  landscape  glows  like  mol- 
ton  gold  at  his  touch.  On  the  bank  of  the  grand 
canal,  between  Lakes  Chalco  and  Tezcuco,  in  the  val- 
ley of  Mexico,  stands  a  fonda,  upon  whose  wall  is 
painted  the  inscription,  "A  La  Sol  de  California." 
Who  can  stand  here  and  behold  such  a  scene  as  this, 
and  not  sympathize  in  his  inmost  heart  with  the  author 
of  that  inscription? 

And  here,  companions  in  my  wanderings,  friends 
of  my  heart,  I  leave  you,  one  and  all,  and  reluctantly 
say  good  bye! 

Together  we  have  galloped  through  the  valleys  and 
climbed  the  mountains  in  search  of  health,  curious  ad- 
venture, strange  sights  and  scenes,  and  the  beautiful 
in  nature,  in  the  glorious  land  of  the  madrono.  Per- 
chance we  have  not  accomplished  all  we  anticipated 
when  we  started  out;  have  missed  something  for 
which  we  sought ;  failed  in  something  which  we  de- 
sired. But  we  have  seen  much  to  remember,  some- 
thing- that  was  new  and  strange,  and  cheated  care 


AD70S.  o  ,  - 

and  toil  out  of  some  right  pleasant  hours.  I  trust 
that  you  have  been  repaid  for  your  trouble,  and  en- 
joyed yourselves  as  I  have.  If  so,  I  am  glad,  and  we 
may  at  no  distant  day  renew  our  acquaintance,  and 
in  broader  fields  and  other  lands  seek  for  grander  and 
more  stirring  adventure.  But,  in  any  event,  let  us 
still  be  as  we  have  been,  good  friends ;  and  as  we 
part  this  morning  here  beneath  the  madrono  tree, 
let  us  shake  hands  all  round,  as  is  the  goodly  custom 
of  the  country,  and  say  with  reverent  sincerity,  each 
to  each — Adios  ! 


CHAPTER   XL 

THE  CHINESE  FEAST  OF  THE  DEAD. 

Weird  and  Ghostly  Scene  in  a  Chinese  Temple  at  Midnight. — The  Story  o\ 
Concatenation  Bill,  and  the  True  History  of  the  Great  Indian  Fight  on  the 
Gila. 

What  a  strange,  peculiar  people  are  these  Chinese ! 
Dwelling  among  us,  they  are  not  of  us ;  but  are  born 
and  grow  up,  and  toil  and  die  here  in  the  midst  of  the 
boasted  civilization  of  the  nineteenth  century,  just  as 
they  have  been  being  born  and  growing  up,  and  toil- 
ing and  dying,  for  ages  on  ages,  in  the  "Central 
Flowery  Empire"  on  the  other  shore  of  the  blue 
Pacific.  They  walk  the  same  streets  and  breathe  the 
same  air  with  us  ;  but  they  do  not  talk  the  same  lan- 
guage ;  do  not  act  as  we  act ;  do  not  reason  as  we 
reason ;  do  not  think  as  we  think,  From  the  cradle 
to  the  grave,  the  Chinaman  is  always  a  Chinaman, 
adhering  to  the  traditions  of  his  ancestors,  walking 
in  the  footsteps  of  his  fathers,  careless  of  the  appro- 
bation or  reprobation  of  the  rest  of  mankind,  except 
so  far  as  it  may  affect  him  pecuniarily.  Keen  at  a 
bargain,  naturally  quick-witted  and  sharp  of  compre- 
hension, a  patient  toiler,  and  skillful  at  every  kind  of 
handiwork  to  which  he  turns  his  attention,  he  yet 
halts  unaccountably  on  the  shore  of  progress,  and  is 
(246) 


A  CURIOUS  BELIEF.  2  . - 

the  best  representative  living  of  the  effete  civilization 
of  Asia,  wedded  to  the  traditions  of  the  past,  looking 
ever  backwards  and  never  forwards,     All  things  to 

o 

all  men,  in  commercial  transactions,  and  wonderfully 
enterprising  in  his  own  way,  he  is  a  law  unto  himself; 
and  our  politics  and  ambitions,  our  industrial  problems, 
and  the  amenities  of  our  social  life,  are  but  as  vanity 
and  vexation  of  spirit  to  him,  and  he  will  take  no 
part  in  them. 

Among  the  strangest  of  the  strange  customs  which 
the  Chinese  have  transplanted  on  American  soil,  is 
the  annual  "Feast  of  the  Dead."  Heaven  comes 
nearer  to  the  land  of  his  birth  than  to  any  other  land, 
and  before  he  leaves  it  for  barbarian  regions  he  pro- 
vides for  the  ultimate  return  of  his  bones  for  inter- 
ment in  the  soil  where  his  ancestors,  in  countless 
millions,  sleep  the  last  sleep.  Meantime  he  believes 
that  the  spirits  of  his  departed  friends  linger  lovingly 
near  the  place  where  their  bodies  rest  for  the  moment ; 
and  so  long  as  he  remains  within  reach  of  their  tem- 
porary resting-place,  he,  ever  true  to  the  traditions  of 
his  race,  pays  an  annual  visit  of  ceremony  to  it,  and, 
with  a  solemn  gravity  which  is  incomprehensible  to 
the  average  Caucasian  mind,  makes  an  offering  of 
creature  comforts  for  the  delectation  of  the  disem- 
bodied spirits  with  which  his  imagination  peoples  all 
the  air. 

All  Chinese  festivals  come  at  irregular  periods, 
for  the  reason  that  their  months  do  not  correspond 
with  our  own,  and  they  throw  in  an  odd  month  from 
time  to  time  to  make  the  year  come  even,  as  we  do 


24S  the  chinese  feast  of  the  dead 

an  odd  day  on  our  leap  year.  The  feast  of  the  dead 
came  some  years  since  in  May,  and  I  well  remember 
visiting  the  Chinese  quarter  of  Lone  Mountain  Ceme- 
tery at  that  time  to  witness  the  ceremonies.  Their 
New  Year  festivities  are  accompanied  by  an  incessant 
roar  of  burning  fireworks:  crackers  of  every  size, 
from  those  which  pop  in  the  slightest  and  most  deli- 
cate manner,  to  those  which  make  a  report  like  a 
young  cannon,  are  burned  by  the  cartload  at  a  time  ; 
but  the  feast  of  the  dead  is  a  more  quiet  and  solemn 
affair.  The  rich  merchants,  clad  in  the  costliest  silk 
and  broadcloth,  go  on  the  first  day,  riding  in  the  finest 
carriages  procurable,  and  followed  by  express-wagons, 
loaded  with  pigs  roasted  whole,  rice,  fancy  dishes, 
liquors,  and  other  eatables  and  drinkables  without 
number.  A  messenger  or  herald  rides  on  the  outside 
of  each  carriage,  and  as  he  goes  along  throws  off, 
right  and  left,  handfulls  of  squares  of  thin,  yellow 
paper,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  a  small,  impressed 
character,  or  a  bit  of  gold  or  silver  foil,  for  what  pur- 
pose I  could  never  ascertain.  Next  day,  the  artizans 
and  manufacturers  go  in  plainer  carriages,  clubbing 
together  to  make  a  load;  on  the  next,  the  poor  la- 
borers and  public  women,  riding  in  overcrowded  ex- 
press-wagons, carrying  their  meat-offerings  with  them 
in  the  same  vehicle ;  and  on  the  last  day,  the  miser- 
ably poor,  the  rag-pickers  and  garbage  collectors, 
trudge  humbly  along  on  foot  over  the  dusty  road  to 
the  city  of  the  dead,  each  carrying  in  his  hand  the  tri- 
fling offering,  which  his  extreme  poverty  permits  him 
after  months  of  economy  to  provide  for  the  occasion. 


THE    SECRET  OF  CHARITY.  2/?(- 

At  the  cemetery  the  graves  are  almost  buried  beneath 
the  offerings  of  yellow  papers,  which  are  blown  about 
by  the  winds  until  they  form  in  drifts,  like  the  snow 
in  the  streets  of  the  cities  of  the  Atlantic  coast.     Red 
candles',  of  vegetable  wax,  are  lighted  and  stuck  in 
the  ground  by  thousands ;  and  a  cloth  being  spread 
upon  the  ground  at  the  foot  of  each  grave  by  its  par- 
ticular visitor,  the  feast  is  arranged  upon  it,  the  cups 
filled  with  sam-shoo,   tea,  etc.,  and  then  the    living 
friend,  bowing  with  solemn  politeness,  invites  the  dis- 
embodied spirit  or  spirits  to  come  and  help  themselves. 
After  that,  he  walks  around  and  chats  gaily  with  his 
living  friends,  smokes,  drinks  a  little  rice  wine,  and 
then,  quietly  packing  up  the  eatables,  which  are  none 
the  worse  for  the  service  they  have  done,  and  placing 
them  in  the  wagon  again,  spills  the  drinkables  on  the 
ground,  and  returns  to  the  city  (proudly  conscious  of 
having  done  his  duty  well,  like  a  man  and  a  C — hina- 
man),  to  dine  upon  "the  funeral  baked  meats"  himself. 
The  spirits,  as  their  name  would  indicate,  take  only 
the  etherial  part  of  the  feast,  and  the  living  men  get 
the  most  substantial,  and  to  them  at  least  most  valu- 
able portion  of  the  comestibles. 

An  old  and  venerable  member  of  the  Christian 
church — a  bright  and  shining  light  of  the  faith,  who 
resides  at  Auburn,  New  York — once  told  me,  while 
engaged  in  distributing  tracts  in  the  English  language, 
which  they  could  not  read,  to  the  poor  native  Pro- 
testants of  Mexico,  that  he  had  learned,  from  long 
experience,  that  the  true  secret  of  Christian  charity 
was  to  be  able  to  do  good  unto  others  without  cost- 


2  t-q  THE   CHINESE  FEAST  OF  THE    DEAD. 

ing  yourself  a  cent.  He  had  followed  out  that  idea 
all  his  lifetime,  and  the  Lord  had  so  prospered  him  in 
things  worldly  and  things  spiritual,  that  he  was  more 
satisfied,  day  by  day,  that  he  was  on  the  right  track, 
and  had  the  thino-  down  to  a  science. 

The  Chinaman  has  not  been  able  to  quite  come 
up  to  this  standard  in  his  observance  of  the  cere- 
mony of  the  feast  of  the  dead,  but  he  comes  pretty 
near  it,  and  in  a  few  thousand  years  more  may  suc- 
ceed in  reaching  it ;  but  he  will  be  a  terribly  mean 
Chinaman  when  that  time  arrives! 

The  feast  of  the  dead,  like  our  Christmas  services, 
winds  up  with  social  gatherings,  friendly  reunions,  a 
"feast  of  reason  and  a  flow  of  soul,"  and  a  good  time 
generally.  The  Buddhist  temples  are  then  decked  out 
in  strangely  fantastic  style,  quite  unintelligible  to  the 
white  American.  The  ceremonies  at  the  temple  at 
this  time  appear  to  be  devoid  of  any  marked  religious 
character. 

This  year — 1872 — the  feast  of  the  dead  came  late 
in  August,  and  I  had  the  honor  of  assisting.  We 
were  going  home  at  midnight  (a  party  of  half  a  dozen, 
who  had  been  indulging  in  that  peculiar  little  game 
at  which  if  you  don't  bid  you  lose,  and  if  you  do  bid 
you  go  back  and  lose  two  bits  more,  so  much  affected 
in  California  on  the  last  night  of  the  feast),  and  had 
stopped  at  the  corner  of  Dupont  and  Washington 
streets,  to  listen  to  the  babel  of  many  tongues, 
the  screeching  of  the  Chinese  one-stringed  fiddles, 
the  dulcet  notes  of  the  tom-toms,  and  the  clashing  of 
the  gongs  in  the  gambling-houses,  where  infatuated 


A   STRANGE   PROCEEDING.  „  -  T 

Celestials  were  betting  themselves  poor  at  the  game  of 
"  Tan,"  or  in  the  restaurants  where  others  were  dining 
convivially.  It  was  a  glorious  moonlight  night,  such 
as  one  rarely  sees,  save  on  the  Pacific  coast,  or  in  the 
tropics.  The  whole  air  was  loaded  with  the  fumes  of 
burning  "joss  sticks,"  or  incense  candles,  made  from 
powdered  sandal  wood,  fragrant  gums,  etc.,  the  blue 
smoke  of  which  rose  from  every  door- way,  open  win- 
dow, crack,  crevice,  or  cranny  in  the  houses  where 
the  blue-bloused  sons  of  China  congregate,  resting  on 
the  Chinese  quarter  like  a  fog  on  a  Jersey  salt-marsh, 
or  a  cloud  of  mosquitoes  on  a  Mississippi  river-bot- 
tom. While  we  were  standing  there,  a  party  of  Chi- 
nese boys  placed  a  row  of  these  little  joss-sticks  up- 
right along  the  edge  of  the  gutter  by  the  sidewalk, 
leading-  down  to  the  centre  of  the  block  northwards, 
and  set  them  all  burnina-  at  once.  As  the  cloud  of 
fragrant  smoke  rose  up  from  them,  a  well-dressed 
Chinaman  appeared  and  directed  a  servant  where  to 
place  a  large  tray,  or  salver,  on  which  was  neatly  ar- 
ranged a  hot  lunch,  prepared  in  the  most  attractive 
style  of  the  first-class  Chinese  culinary  artist.  The 
lunch  being  duly  arranged  on  the  edge  of  the  side- 
walk, he  kneeled  before  it,  chin-chinned  repeatedly 
until  his  forehead  nearly  touched  the  curbstone,  and 
then,  to  avoid  the  curious  and  irreverent  throng  of 
Caucasians,  who  were  fast  gathering  about  him,  arose 
and  hustled  away  the  lunch  into  the  house  from  which 
he  came.  A  huge  mass  of  curiously  curled,  and 
twisted,  and  convoluted,  and  cornuted — and  I  don't 
know  what  not  else — tissue  paper,  forming  some  em- 


2r2  T£UL  CHINESE  FEAST  OF  THE  DEAD. 

blematic  figures,  which  resembled  in  shape,  and  color, 
and  design  nothing  which  Caucasian  mind  ever  con- 
ceived, or  could  comprehend  if  described — and  I 
don't  know  how  to  describe  it — was  lying  in  the 
street  in  front  of  the  line  of  joss-sticks,  and,  as  he 
arose  to  go,  a  boy  touched  off  a  pile  of  fire-crackers 
concealed  within  it,  and  in  an  instant  it  disappeared  in 
a  blaze  of  glory.  This  appeared  to  be  a  part  of  the 
programme. 

We  followed  along  the  line  of  joss-sticks,  and  found 
that  it  terminated  at  the  entrance  of  the  narrow  pass- 
age which  leads  in  between  two  gambling-houses  to 
the  centre  of  the  block,  where  stands  the  Buddhist 
temple,  erected  by  the  famous  Chinese  physician,  Li- 
po-Tai,  in  demonstration  of  his  gratitude  to  ahe  Su- 
preme Intelligence  for  his  escape  from  instant  death 
some  years  since  by  a  gas  explosion,  which  killed  his 
companion,  and  disfigured  him  for  life.  A  crowd  of 
visitors,  Chinese  and  Caucasian,  were  moving  in  and 
out,  and  we  passed  in  with  the  throng.  At  the  end 
of  the  passage  we  came  to  a  stairway,  which  zig- 
zags up  on  the  outside  of  the  tall  brick  building  to 
the  upper  story,  terminating  on  a  balcony  hung  with 
Chinese  lanterns  of  the  most  brilliant  and  striking 
patterns,  each  as  large  as  a  flour-barrel,  from  which 
you  enter  the  temple  proper.  At  the  last  landing, 
below  the  top  of  the  stairway,  we  stopped  to  look  at 
a  gigantic  statue  representing  a  "devil-man"  sentinel, 
placed  in  an  alcove,  in  a  half-sitting,  half-standing 
position,  menacing  the  intrusive  unbeliever,  seeking 
for  the  Holy  of  Holies,  with  outstretched  arm  and 


«  SESAME r  0  -  - 

fist  doubled  up,  like  a  pugilist's  in  a  prize-fight.  A 
hideous  mask  answered  for  a  face,  while  the  eyes, 
lighted  up  from  within,  glared  on  the  visitor  with 
something  of  the  weird  effect  produced  by 

"Torches  which  have  burned  all  night, 
Through  some  impure,  unhallowed  rite," 

When  viewed  by  the  true  believer.  The  devil- man 
winked  inquiringly  at  us,  and  we  winked  back  at  him, 
said  "Press,"  and  then  passed  on  unmolested.  One 
of  the  party  observed  this  pantomime,  and  enthusi- 
astically exclaimed,  "  Well,  you  fellows  of  the  press 
have  got  a  good  thing  of  it,  haven't  you  ?  If  I  don't 
mean  to  practice  that,  and  try  it  on,  when  the  time 

comes,  on  old  St.  Peter,  may  the "  We  requested 

him  to  spare  our  sensitive  feelings,  and  he  did  so,  and 
did  not  finish  the  sentence. 

The  temple  was  ablaze  with  light,  crowded  by  a 
wondering  throng,  filled  with  the  choking  blue  smoke 
of  the  incense,  and  as  hot  and  close  as  the  furjiace- 
room  of  an  ocean  steamer  in  the  tropics.  The  images 
representing  Buddha,  or  Foh,  the  guardian  deities  of 
the  southern,  middle  and  northern  districts  of  China, 
the  Queen  Mother  of  Heaven  and  her  attendants,  the 
black  gentleman  of  whom  it  is  always  safe  to  speak 
respectfully,  if  not  admiringly,  and  other  objects  of 
mingled  admiration  and  contempt  to  the  average  Chi- 
nese mind,  were  all  on  their  shrines  in  the  different 
apartments  or  halls  of  the  temple,  and  the  usual 
lamps  were  burning  before  them.  But  the  visitors 
appeared  to  pay  no  attention  to  them,  and,  for  the 
time  being,  at  least,  regard  them  with  no  respect. 


2-.  THE   CHINESE  FEAST  OF  THE   DEAD. 

The  extraordinary  decorations  for  the  occasion 
formed  the  attraction  for  the  evening-.  Fronting  the 
great  folding  door — on  the  wings  of  which  are  paint- 
ed a  hideous  monster,  armed  sentinels,  etc.,  depend- 
ing from  the  ceiling  by  crimson  silken  cords — hung  a 
whatnot-like  arrangement,  representing  in  miniature 
the  stage  of  a  Chinese  theatre,  upon  which  a  "celes- 
tial star  dramatic  company,"  in  all  the  elaborate  silk 
and  gold  embroidery,  decked  garments,  etc.,  which 
pertain  to  their  wardrobe,  was  grouped  with  really  ar- 
tistic skill  and  effect.  The  scene  represented  a  tab- 
leau in  one  of  their  historic  dramas,  and  each  figure, 
which  was  from  two  and  one  half  to  three  feet  in 
height,  was  a  perfect  counterpart  in  miniature  of  one 
of  the  well-known  Chinese  actors  of  the  Jackson- 
street  theatre,  which  is  visited  by  every  stranger 
from  the  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  who  comes  to 
see  the  wonders  and  curiosities  of  California.  The 
features,  which  were  of  some  hard  material  like  plas- 
ter of  Paris,  were  moulded  with  such  cunning  ski  J, 
that  the  expression  was  as  perfect  as  life  itself;  and 
each  actor  could  be  recognized  in  an  instant  by  any 
person  who  had  seen  him  once  upon  the  real  stage. 
Five  similar  groups,  each  representing  a  scene  in  a 
play  illustrating  the  history  and  traditions  of  the  Cen- 
tral Flowery  Empire,  hung  in  different  parts  of  the 
same  principal  apartment.  In  one  corner  we  saw  two 
curious  phantom  horsemen,  mounted  on  nondescript, 
half  human,  half  animal,  phantom  steeds.  The  frame- 
work of  these  figures  was  of  the  lightest  split-rattan, 
and  the  superstructure  light  tissue  paper  of  various 


THE    TWIN  GIANTS.  „  -  - 

brilliant  colors.  "What  do  they  represent?"  we 
asked  of  a  polite  Chinaman,  who  came  bowing  out  of 
a  side  room  to  meet  us,  and  show  us  around  free  of 
charge.  He  told  us  forty  graceful '  fictions  in  ten 
breaths,  and  was  "joshing"  us  all  the  time.  I  did  not 
blame  him,  for  two  reasons:  first,  he  did  not  know 
himself;  and,  secondly,  his  people  are  an  imaginative 
race,  and  it  is  the  custom  of  the  country — their  coun- 
try, not  ours,  I  mean,  of  course.  In  China — blessed 
country! — there  are  no  professional  politicians,  and 
the  lying  is  more  evenly  distributed  among  the  peo- 
ple than  with  us. 

But  the  greatest  attractions  that  night  were  two  mon- 
ster statues,  twin  giant  ghost- warriors,  who  stood  on 
either  side  of  the  hall  in  front  of  the  great  altar.  These 
figures  were  each  fully  eighteen  feet  in  height,  and 
were  perfectly  proportioned.  They  were  costumed 
in  half-armor,  worn  over  long  robes  of  the  most  bril- 
liant hues,  elaborately  ornamented  and  embroidered, 
and  each  wore  the  cap  of  a  high  mandarin,  surmounted 
by  the  crimson  ball,  indicative  of  the  first  rank,  and 
a  tall,  variegated  plume.  The  face  of  one  had  some- 
thing of  serene  dignity  and  power  in  beatific  repose 
upon  it,  and  he  held  his  right  hand  aloft,  with  the 
thumb,  fore  and  fourth  fingers  slightly  bent,  and  the 
middle  and  third  fingers  nearly  straight — as  do  always 
the  images  of  Buddha,  or  Foh,  the  representations  of 
the  incarnation  of  the  Supreme  Power  and  Intelli- 
gence, which  are  seen  upon  every  shrine  of  the  faith — 
while  the  right  foot  rested  upon  and  crushed  down  to 
the  earth  a  hideous,  open-mouthed,  writhing  dragon. 


2  -£  THE   CHINESE   FEAST  OF  THE  DEAD. 

The  second  was  the  counterpart  of  the  first  in  all, 
save  that  his  face  was  covered  by  a  hideous,  frowning 
mask,  his  raised  right  hand  was  open,  with  the  palm 
turned  full  toward  the  spectator,  and  with  his  foot  he 
trampled  a  snarling  and  struggling  yellow  and  black 
spotted  tiger.  We  asked  the  meaning  of  these  giant 
figures  of  our  obsequious  Chinese  attendant,  and,  as 
before,  he  told  us  a  cock-and-bull  story  as  gigantic  in 
proportion  as  the  figures  themselves.  The  excuses 
urged  in  his  behalf  in  the  first  instance  are  equally 
good  in  this. 

We  ascertained  that  the  statues,  like  the  phantom 
horsemen,  despite  their  imposing  appearance,  were 
nothing  but  rattan,  tissue  and  gilt  paper,  and  bits  of 
looking-glass — trifles  light  as  air,  almost,  which  even 
a  breath  might  knock  over  and  demolish.  If  they 
wrere  intended  to  represent  ghosts  of  the  mighty  dead 
of  the  days  when  there  were  giants  in  the  land,  they 
came  near  the  mark ;  for  anything  more  thin  and  un- 
substantial to  all  the  senses,  save  that  of  sight,  could 
never  have  been  conceived.  Only  the  cunning  hand 
of  a  celestial  artist  could  have  put  them  together, 
preserved  their  anatomical  proportions,  and  made 
them  stand  there,  erect,  the  very  impersonation  of 
hollow  imposture.  We  noticed  that  the  celestial 
crowd  laughed  and  talked,  and  wandered  about  with- 
out the  slightest  regard  for  the  religious  character  of 
the  place,  and  we  came  away  amused  and  interested, 
but  not  a  whit  the  wiser  for  any  insight  into  the  hid- 
den meaning  of  all  this  pageant — if  any  meaning 
there  was — than  when  we  came. 


CONCA  TEN  A  TION  BILL.  0  -  _ 

Coming-  back  to  Dupont  street,  I  met  a  man  whom 
1  had  last  seen  while  on  a  hostile  raid  into  the  Hual- 
apai  Indian  country,  in  Arizona,  and  our  conversation, 
after  the  first  greetings  were  over,  turned  upon  one 
of  the  strange,  peculiar  characters  with  which  the 
Pacific  coast  abounds — one  we  had  both  known — old 
' '  Concatenation  B ill. 

When  and  where  he  picked  up  the  sobriquet,  or  it 
picked  up  him,  we  never  knew ;  but,  once  attached 
to  him,  it  became  a  part  of  his  personality,  and  stuck 
to  him  thenceforth,  through  good  report  and  through 
evil  report,  for  the  term  of  his  natural  life,  and  will 
be  inscribed  upon  his  tombstone,  should  fortune  so 
far  change  her  mood  as  to  permit  him  to  have  one, 
which  is  a  matter  for  doubt.  It  was  doubtful  if  he 
knew*  himself.  It  was  probably  all  he  had  to  show 
for  his  months  of  labor  in  some  early  mining-camp, 
when  he  left  it ;  and,  as  the  camp  itself  is  doubtless 
long  since  played  out,  and  numbered  with  the  things 
which  have  been,  but  are  not,  what  matters  it  where 
it  was  located,  or  who  toiled  in  it?  In  any  event,  it 
usurped  the  place  of  the  name  given  him  in  baptism 
—if  he  ever  was  baptised — and,  like  most  California 
nicknames,  was  appropriate. 

"  You  are  out  of  luck,"  said  a  rough-looking  miner, 
to  whom  he  had  detailed  his  misfortunes,  wanderings 
and  misadventures  for  an  hour. 

"Out  of  luck!  Well,  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  was; 
you  may  gamble  on  that;  but  I  ain't.  Why,  God 
bless  you,  stranger,  I'm  just  in  a  perfect  streak  of 
luck  from  morning  to  night,  and  from  one  year's  end 


2  r  3  THE  CHINESE  FEAST  OF  THE  DEAD. 

to  another ;  and  the  cussedest  luck  !  Why,  I  have 
had  more  luck  than  would  sink  a  ship,  and  have  got 
it  yet !" 

I  will  be  just  to  the  memory  of  my  departed  friend ; 
he  had. 

He  came  across  the  plains  in  '49.  He  started  with 
a  good  outfit  supplied  him  by  friends  in  Illinois,  who 
fitted  him  out  "on  shares"  as  a  speculation.  He  left 
them  confident  of  large  dividends,  and  those  who  are 
yet  above  ground  are  still  waiting  for  them.  His  best 
horse  was  stolen  from  him  on  the  first  night  out  from 
"St.  Joe,"  and  he  traded  off  the  other  and  the  double 
harnesses  for  a  yoke  of  oxen,  with  a  cow  thrown  in. 
One  of  his  oxen  was  gobbled  up  by  Indians  on  the 
Platte,  and  having  sold,  given  away,  or  thrown  away 
half  his  provisions  to  lighten  his  load,  he  started  on 
with  the  cow  yoked  in  with  the  remaining  ox. 

The  cow  pegged  out  on  the  headwaters  of  the 
Humboldt,  and  he  abandoned  his  wagon  and  rode  the 
remaining  ox  down  to  "the  Sink,"  where  it  also  gave 
up  the  struggle,  and  left  him  alone  in  his  misery. 
From  thence  he  made  the  remainder  of  the  journey 
on  foot,  camping  by  night  with  any  family  or  party 
who  would  give  him  a  supper  and  the  use  of  a  spare 
blanket 

All  things  must  have  an  end  some  time,  and  he 
finished  his  journey  at  last,  arriving  at  Placerville  late 
in  the  autumn,  worn  out,  ragged,  and  seedy  to  the 
last  degree — the  very  impersonation  of  persistent 
bad  luck — but  still  hopeful  of  the  future,  and  obtained 
a  situation  as  waiter  at  a  hotel,  with  good  wages.    At 


A  MATRIMONIAL    TAKE-IN.  „ -rt 

2  :>9 

the  end  of  the  second  month,  he  actually  had  money 
ahead,  and  being  of  a  commercial  turn  of  mind,  tried 
his  hand  at  "busting"  a  faro  bank.  He  did  not  quite 
succeed  in  the  operation — he  never  quite  made  a  suc- 
cess of  anything  he  undertook — but  he  won  eleven 
hundred  and  eighty  dollars  nevertheless. 

There  was  a  gushing  young  lady,  who  tended  bar 
in  a  dance-house  in  Placerville,  who  had  made  his  ac- 
quaintance before  he  made  this  "ten-strike,"  and  now 
she  suddenly  discovered  that  he  was  a  really  good- 
hearted  fellow,  and  not  bad-looking.  She  suggested 
that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  them  to  go  into 
partnership,  matrimonial  and  financial,  and  start  a  hotel 
at  Coon  Hollow,  a  new  and  promising  camp  not  far 
from  Placerville — which  was  then  more  familiarly 
known  as  "Hangtown."  The  financial  partnership 
was  to  be  immediate  and  absolute;  the  matrimonial 
one,  conditional  and  prospective.  The  arrangement, 
though  it  might  have  pleased  him  better  if  slightly  mod- 
ified, on  the  whole  met  with  his  approval ;  they  rented 
the  hotel,  and  she  started  down  to  Sacramento  to 
purchase  the  necessary  outfit  for  the  bar  before  start- 
ing in  at  "  keeping  tavern."  She  took  his  money  with 
her,  and — did  not  return.  Bill  borrowed  fifty  dollars 
of  a  sympathizing  friend,  followed  her  down  to  Sacra- 
mento, and  there  learned  that  she  had  gone  "to  the 
Bay"  in  company  with  a  big  red-headed  fellow,  known 
as  "Sandy  Bob,"  who  came  out  with  her  from  New 
York,  and  who,  if  not  her  husband,  should  have  been. 
"No  use  following  any  further  after  kerf" 

Bill  knocked  around  Sacramento  until  his  borrowed 


250  TILE  CHINESE  FEAST  OF  THE  DEAD. 

fifty  dollars  were  all  expended,  then  got  a  situation  as 
"assistant  bull-whacker"  on  an  up  train,  and  made  his 
way  up  into  the  mountains  to  Fiddletown,  where  he 
came  across  a  friend,  who  took  him  into  partnership  in 
a  placer  gold-claim,  which  at  the  moment  did  not  prom- 
ise largely.  They  "struck  it  rich,"  for  a  wonder,  in 
two  weeks  sold  out  for  a  "  big  stake,"  and  started  for 
San  Francisco.  On  the  way  down  the  river,  on  the 
steamer,  Bill  was  induced  to  take  a  hand  in  a  little 
friendly  game  of  draw-poker,  just  to  pass  away  the 
time,  and  succeeded  not  only  in  passing  away  the 
time,  but  also  with  it  all  his  own  money,  and  all  his 
confiding  partner's  share  as  well.  In  San  Francisco 
he  met  with  various  adventures,  finding  temporary 
employment  in  a  dozen  different  kinds  of  business, 
only  to  be  thrown  out  of  each  in  turn  through  some 
unfortunate  occurrence,  and  find  himself  "dead  broke" 
every  time.  When  the  Frazer  River  excitement  broke 
out,  he  went  up  there,  and  came  back  "busted."  Then 
he  joined  in  the  mid-winter  rush  over  the  Sierra  Ne- 
vada to  the  newly-found  Washoe  silver  mines,  and 
found  his  way  back  again  in  the  spring  as  poverty- 
stricken  as  ever.  Then  he  drifted  southward,  fished 
for  sharks,  and  gathered  abalones  at  San  Pedro,  and 
for  a  time  made  himself  generally  useless  on  a  stock- 
ranch.  The  Arizona  gold  excitement  of  1862-63 
took  him  across  the  desert  to  the  Colorado  River.  In 
the  first  camp  he  struck  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Colorado  River,  he  set  to  work  with  a  will  to  secure 
a  valuable  quartz  claim — everybody  was  hunting  up 
and  locating  quartz  claims  at  that  time.     He  would 


CLAIMING  AN  "EXTENSION." 


26l 


go  out  in  the  morning  with  claim-notices  written  out 
in  advance,  and  tramp  over  the  red  volcanic  mount- 
ains all  day  long  in  the  burning  sun,  vainly  seeking 
for  an  unclaimed  lead.  All  the  quartz  leads  in  the 
country  appeared  to  have  from  one  to  a  dozen  claim- 
notices  stuck  up  on  them.  Just  as  hope  was  aban- 
doning him,  a  friend  suggested  to  try  "extensions." 
If  he  could  not  find  new  claims,  he  could  at  feast 
locate  extensions  on  those  taken  up  by  others,  and  if 
the  original  claims  prospected  well,  his  extensions 
would  eventually  become  valuable.  The  idea  struck 
him  favorably. 

Next  morning  he  was  off  bright  and  early,  with  his 
pocket  full  of  ready- written  extension  claim- notices. 
Luck  was  still  against  him  ;  he  found  extensions 
located  in  every  claim  in  the  mountains.  Late  in  the 
evening  he  was  making  his  way  back  to  camp,  foot- 
sore, weary  and  dejected,  when  he  stumbled  upon  a 
claim-stake  on  a  mesa  at  the  head  of  a  canon,  and 
getting  down  on  his  knees  to  examine  it,  was  filled 
with  delight  at  the  discovery  that  there  was  no  ex- 
tension-notice fastened  to  the  other  side  of  it.  He 
could  not  make  out  the  words  of  the  notice,  but  it 
was  a  claim,  and  that  was  quite  enough  for  him.  Pull- 
ing out  an  extension-notice,  reading : 

"  We,  the  undersigned,  claim  200  feet  each  on  the  first  northerly 
extension  of  this  claim,  and  intend  to  work  the  same  according  to 
the  laws  of  the  United  States  and  of  this  district. 

(Signed)  "John  Smith, 

"John  Jones  el  al." 

he  fastened  it  on  the  northern  side  of  the  stake,  and 
started  on  toward  camp  with  a  lighter  heart. 


2 52  THE    CHINESE  FEAST  OF  THE  DEAD. 

Descending  into  the  caiion,  he  came  upon  another 
claim-stake,  and  repeated  the  performance  of  putting 
up  an  extension-notice.  Fortune  had  favored  him 
at  last!  Two  extensions  located  within  an  hour — he 
was  a  millionaire  already,  in  prospect,  at  least,  when 
he  returned  to  camp.  That  night  he  hardly  slept  at 
all.  His  heart  beat  high  with  hope — visions  of  un- 
told wealth  floated  unceasingly  before  his  half-closed 
eyes.  Next  morning  he  was  up  betimes,  and  invited 
his  companions  in  the  camp  to  go  up  with  him  before 
breakfast  and  take  a  look  at  his  locations.  They  went 
up  the  caiion  and  found  that  the  last  extension  located 
was  the  result  of  an  error.  All  sorts  of  locations  be- 
sides mining-claims  were  being  made — town  sites, 
mill  sites,  etc.,  etc.;  the  last  claim  on  which  he  had 
taken  up  an  extension  was  for  a  slaughter- yard.  The 
discovery  lowered  his  spirits  a  peg,  but  he  was  still 
hopeful,  and  went  on  with  the  party  up  to  the  mesa 
to  examine  the  first  location. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  stake,  and  Bill  bent  down 
to  read  the  notice,  his  face  turned  pale  and  he  started 
back  affrighted,  as  did  Robinson  Crusoe  when  he  saw 
the  footprint  of  the  cannibal  on  the  island  of  Juan 
Fernandez.  As  I  am  a  man  and  a  Christian,  he  had 
located  and  agreed  to  work  an  exte7ision  on  a  claim 
for  a  graveyard 

The  joke  got  back  to  camp  ahead  of  him,  and  Bill 
shot  out  of  the  place  an  hour  later,  like  a  secCfUl  T»I j.  ■ 
zeppa,  followed  by  a 

•  loud  shout  of  savage  laughter, 


Which  on  the  wind  came  roaring  after," 


KILLING    WHISKY.  2£„ 

from  the  lungs  of  every  prospector  within  a  mile  of  it. 

He  paused  in  his  flight  at  a  new  camp  near  La  Paz, 
and  there  had  better  luck  for  the  moment.  He  loca- 
ted on  a  small  vein,  or  deposit,  of  "silver-copper 
glance,"  and  sold  it  to  a  San  Francisco  capitalist  for 
three  hundred  dollars.  With  this  money  he  started 
a  modest  and  unpretending  "dead-fall,"  proposing  to 
supply  the  honest  miners  with  liquor  and  cards  at  a 
handsome  advance  on  original  cost.  The  first  day's 
business  was  a  success,  and  he  besfan  to  entertain  hiQfh 
hope  of  a  change  for  the  better.  Vain  hope!  On 
the  second  day  a  stranger  came  into  his  shanty  for  a 
drink,  and  fell  down  dead  with  heart  disease  before 
reaching  the  counter.  Bad  news  travels  fast.  In 
half  an  hour  the  rumor  had  gone  abroad  through  the 
whole  camp  that  the  respected  and  lamented  deceased 
(who  had  emigrated  from  Northern  California  or 
Southern  Oregon  on  account  of  a  lawsuit  involving 
the  question  of  title  to  a  horse)  had  died  just  after, 
instead  of  just  before,  imbibing  a  glass  of  Concatena- 
tion Bill's  best  whisky. 

It  was  the  warm  season,  and  the  gold  and  copper- 
seekers  of  that  district  were  an  excitable  set  at  any 
time,  with  no  wholesome  restraint  upon  their  actions 
in  the  shape  of  courts  and  legal  enactments.  In  an 
hour  fifty  m£n  had  assembled,  and  were  engaged  in 
sampling  his  liquor,  and  testing  it  as  a  Committee  of 
the  Whole,  with  a  view  of  deciding  whether  it  would 
kill  or  not.  It  did  not  directly  kill  those  who  drank 
it  then  and  there,  without  paying  a  cent  for  it,  but  it 
led  to  a  fight,  in  which  two  honest  miners  were  laid 


0<3  i  THE   CHINESE  FEAST  OF  THE  DEAD. 

out  with  bullet- holes  through  them ;  and  the  indig- 
nant citizens,  with  the  crude  ideas  of  justice  prevail- 
ing among  them,  held  him  responsible  for  this  result, 
and  immediately  organized  a  Vigilance  Committee, 
with  the  intention  of  going  for  Bill  as  soon  as  day- 
light came,  to  enable  them  to  hunt  up  his  hiding-place 
m.  the  chaparral.  Luckily  for  him,  he  learned  of  their 
good  intentions  in  season,  and  before  morning  broke 
over  the  Weaver  Mountains,  he  broke  in  that  direc- 
tion himself.  They  heard  of  him  the  next  day  at  the 
Granite  Wash,  forty  miles  east  of  the  river,  and  their 
ardor  having  cooled  down  a  little  meantime,  concluded 
to  drop  the  matter  and  pursue  him  no  farther. 

He  next  turned  up  at  Wickenburg,  on  the  Hassi- 
yampi,  in  Central  Arizona.  Wickenburg  was  a  lively 
place  at  that  time.  Jack  Snelling  was  acknowledged 
to  be  a  capital  fellow  when  perfectly  sober,  but  in- 
clined to  be  playful  at  times,  and  indulge  in  little  prac- 
tical jokes,  which  generally  resulted  in  somebody 
being  sent  out  of  town  feet  foremost,  and  perforated 
like  a  colander.  It  so  happened  that  Jack  was  fes- 
tively inclined  on  the  day  on  which  Bill  arrived,  and  had 
been  going  around  town  compelling  all  the  traders 
to  close  their  shops  and  go  home,  on  pain  of  instant 
death.  Jack  was  much  respected  in  that  community, 
and  his  will  was  law.  As  Concatenation  Bill  rode 
down  the  single  long,  tortuous  street  which  com- 
prised the  city  at  that  time,  Jack  sighted  him,  and 
mistaking  him  for  a  man  who  had  once  insulted  him 
by  refusing  to  drink  with  him,  went  for  him  the  mo- 
ment he  alighted,  and  thrashed  him  within  an  inch  of 


MIS  TAKEN  IDE  Nil  TY.  -  *  - 

his  life  before  he  discovered  his  mistake.  Bill  ac- 
cepted his  apology  and  a  drink,  but  thought  that  busi- 
ness was  opening  a  little  too  briskly  in  Wickenburg  to 
be  permanent,  washed  the  blood  from  his  lace,  bound 
a  piece  of  raw  beef  on  one  of  his  eyes,  and  struck 
out  for  a  new  location  at  sunrise  next  morning. 

In  the  course  of  his  wanderings,  he  was  seen  at 
Hooper  &  Co's  store  on  the  Gila,  and  for  a  time  was 
at  home  around  Tucson. 

Two  or  three  years  after  his  adventure  at  La  Paz, 
Concatenation  Bill  came  down  Bill  Williams'  fork  from 
Prescott,  near  Date  Creek,  and  for  some  weeks  was 
one  of  the  fixtures  of  the  Great  Central  Mining  Com- 
pany's camp,  at  the  copper  mines  near  Aubray  City, 
twelve  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  fork.  Nobody 
asked  him  to  stop,  and  nobody  seemed  to  care  to  in- 
vite him  to  leave ;  so  he  partook  liberally  of  the  hos- 
pitalities of  the  camp,  never  missing  a  meal  nor  pay- 
ing a  red,  until  it  was  whispered  round  among  the 
miners  that  he  was  a  heavy  stockholder  in  the  com- 
pany, and  it  would  be  well  to  be  on  the  good  side  of 
him. 

It  was  in  midsummer,  and  the  heat  was  something 
terrible.  All  day  long  the  naked  red  mountains  ab- 
sorbed the  heat  of  the  burning  sun,  and  all  night  long 
they  gave  it  back  to  the  inhabitants,  as  the  baker's 
brick  oven  absorbs  the  heat  of  the  burning  wood  fire, 
and  gives  it  back  to  the  loaves  within  it,  when  the 
coals  and  embers  have  been  raked  out.  Sleep,  until 
far  into  the  morning  hours,  was  an  impossibility,  in- 
doors or  out,  and  the  miners  were  wont  to  spread 


2  56  THE   CHINESE  FEAST  OF  THE  DEAD. 

their  blankets  on  the  floor  of  the  long  veranda,  at  the 
hacienda,  and,  lying  down  upon  them,  while  away  the 
earlier  part  of  the  night,  fighting  mosquitoes  and 
swapping  lies,  which  were  about  equally  abundant  at 
that  time  in  camp. 

Some  years  previous  to  this  time,  the  Mojaves  of 
the  Colorado  Valley,  becoming  tired  of  inglorious 
peace,  and  panting  for  war  and  its  triumphs  and  renown, 
concluded  to  go  on  an  expedition  up  the  Gila,  and 
clean  out  the  Pimos  and  Maricopas,  their  old  friends 
and  allies  against  the  Apaches.  The  campaign  opened 
auspiciously.  The  first  skirmish  resulted  in  the  rapid 
retreat  of  the  Pimos,  with  the  loss  of  four  bucks  and 
one  squaw,  toward  their  main  village,  farther  up  the 
valley.  But  the  second  fight  resulted  differently,  and 
the  Mojaves  retreated  in  confusion  toward  the  Color- 
ado, with  the  loss  of  half  their  force,  and  with  their 
thirst  for  military  glory  whipped  clean  out  of  them. 

Now  it  happened,  almost  as  a  matter  of  course 
since  trouble  was  going  on,  that  Concatenation  Bill 
was  in  the  vicinity  when  the  fight  took  place — or,  at 
least,  had  heard  the  particulars  from  some  one  who 
had  been — and,  as  was  his  custom,  had  worked  up  the 
incidents  and  details  into  a  wonderful  romance,  like 
unto  that  of  the  adventures  of  the  Cid,  of  which  you 
may  be  sure  he  was  the  central  figure  and  hero,  and 
he  never  tired  of  relating  it,  with  endless  variations, 
to  any  crowd  who  could  be  got  to  listen  to  the  story. 
No  one  about  the  camp  knew  aught  to  the  contrary ; 
so,  for  want  of  contradiction,  the  story  was  accepted 
for  its  face,  and  became  one  of  the  acknowledged  and 


BILL'S  INDIAN  FIGHT.  0£- 

respected  legends  of  the  fork.  But  for  an  unfortunate 
incident  which  I  shall  proceed  to  relate,  it  is  probable 
that  it  would  have  passed  into  history  and  been  handed 
down  to  posterity,  with  all  the  claim  to  reverence  and 
credence  which  attaches  to  the  story  of  William  Tell, 
the  tyrant  Gessler,  and  the  apple  ;  or  the  infant  G. 
W.,  his  hatchet,  and  the  old  man's  cherry-tree. 

One  day,  just  as  the  sun  was  sinking  down  in  the 
orange- hued  western  sky,  and  the  sweating  cook  was 
rino-inof  the  welcome  bell  to  call  the  toilers  at  the  mine 
to  supper,  a  game-looking  young  frontiersman,  clad 
in  buckskin  garments,  and  a  broad-brimmed  vicuna 
hat,  rode  down  the  steep  declivity  of  the  red  mount- 
ain, and  made  his  way  into  camp.  He  was  tendered 
the  hospitalities  of  the  place,  as  were  all  strangers 
then,  and  turned  in  with  the  other  "boys"  on  the 
veranda  at  night.  Stories  came  on  in  due  course, 
and,  at  a  hint  dexterously  thrown  out  by  one  of  the 
party,  Concatenation  Bill  started  in  with  the  true  and 
affecting  history  of  the  "  Great  Indian  Fight  on  the 
Gila."     And  thus  he  began  : 

"  Well,  you  see,  boys,  the  old  chiefs  of  the  Pimos 
and  Maricopas  were  all  out  of  practice,  and  when 
they  found  things  had  gone  agin  'em  on  the  first 
fight,  they  looked  about  for  a  leader  who  knowed  jest 
how  to  put  up  the  pins  for  a  victory.  Pretty  soon 
they  pitched  on  me,  and  I  drawed  up  the  plan  for  the 
next  day's  operations  right  away.  I  stationed  the 
braves  at  the  right  points,  then  laid  for  the  Mojaves, 
and  sfot  'em. 


o  53  THE    CHINESE   FEAST  OF  THE  DEAD. 

"They  came  up  the  river,  yelling  like  so  many  devils, 
and  drove  our  pickets  in  like  chaff  before  'em ;  but 
when  I  got  'em  jest  in  the  right  spot,  I  give  the  word, 
and  we  riz  on  'em.  I  never  did  feel  much  compunc- 
tion at  taking  life  before,  leastwise  the  life  of  a  damned 
redskin;  but  the  fact  is,  that  slaughter  was  dreadful, 
and  it  came  to  be  a  perfect  butchery  before  we  got 
through.  I  swear  to  man  that  the  Gila  riz  over  a  foot ; 
though  mind,  boys,  I  don't  say  it  was  all  owin'  to  the 
blood  which  ran  into  it.  There  was  about  two  thou- 
sand dead  Mojaves  a  floatin'  down  the  stream,  an'  it's 
likely  they  lodged  and  choked  it  up  at  some  pint 
where  it  was  narrer  like,  an'  so  set  the  water  back, 
more  or  less.  Right  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  when 
it  seemed  for  a  few  minutes  as  if  the  Mojaves — who 
was  game  to  the  last;  I'll  say  that  injustice  to  'em — 
was  goin'  to  get  the  best  of  us,  after  all,  I  sailed  in 
myself,  and  went  for  their  big  chief,  and  downed  him 
with  a  blow  from  the  butt  of  my  revolver ;  an'  I  was 
jest  cockin'  my  weapon  to  give  him  a  settler,  when 
old  Ickthermiree,  his  second  in  command,  an'  about 
half  a  dozen  leftenants,  lighted  on  me  all  at  onst,  an' 
we  clinched  and  went  down  all  in  a  heap.  I  got  one 
arm  loose,  an'  pulling  out  my  old  Arkansas  toothpick, 
commenced  slashin'  'em  right  and  left,  when " 

Concatenation  Bill  never  told  us  what  happened 
after  that. 

When  he  commenced  the  story,  the  stranger,  who 
was  lying  some  feet  away,  listened  attentively  for  a 
few  moments,  then  rose  slowly  to  a  sitting  posture, 
and  then  to  his  feet.     As  the  story  progressed,  he 


<--A   ROLAND   FOR  AN  OLIVER:''  „An 

-°9 

moved  quietly  toward  the  spot  where  Bill  was  lying, 
and  at  length  startled  that  worthy  by  suddenly  ap- 
pearing over  him,  towering  up  like  a  giant  in  the 
moonlight,  every  feature  convulsed  with  excitement. 

"You  did  that,  stranger?"  he  yelled  from  sten- 
torian lungs,  every  syllable  being  evidently  enunciated 
under  pressure  of  rage  suppressed,  until  it  was  ready 
to  burst  him. 

"  Yes,  me/"  was  Bill's  slightly  less  confident  reply. 

The  stranger  bounded  about  four  feet  into  the  air, 
cracked  his  heels  together  with  such  force  that  the  re- 
port sounded  like  that  of  a  musket,  swung  his  revolver 
round  to  the  front,  so  as  to  have  it  ready  for  instant 
use,  and  as  he  came  down  yelled  out: 

"Well,  by  the  great  horn  spoon,  stranger,  that  is 
singular!  There  wasn't  but  one  damned  white  man 
thar,  or  I  hope  to  be  dropped  into  hell  this  minute ; 
an'  I'm  the  man  !  " 

The  camp  was  as  silent  as  death  in  an  instant. 
Every  man  expected  to  hear  the  report  of  a  revolver, 
or  the  sounds  of  a  deadly  hand-to-hand  struggle,  and 
waited  in  breathless  anxiety  for  the  crowning  catas- 
trophe. 

"  Yott  the  man?" 

"Yes,  by  the  bloody  jumping  tom-cats  of  Jerusalem, 
me  !  Take  a  good  look  at  me,  stranger.  I  kin  jest 
eat  any  ten  men  that  dar  dispute  it." 

The  silence  grew  deeper.  Concatenation  Bill  lay 
as  motionless  as  a  dead  man  for  a  moment,  looking 
up  at  his  opponent  in  the  moonlight,  silently  weigh- 
ing  him  and  taking  his   measure  ;  then  apparently 


o~~.  THE   CHINESE  FEAST  OF  THE  DEAD. 

Z/vJ 

fully  satisfied  that  he  was  a  man  of  his  word,  and  able 
to  carry  out  his  promises,  slowly  turned  over  on  his 
side,  drew  the  corner  of  his  blanket  up  over  his  head, 
and  in  a  voice  as  free  from  excitement  as  that  of  a 
child  playing  on  its  mother's  bosom,  drawled  out : 

"  Well,  I  reckon  that  lets  me  out !" 

A  peal  of  laughter,  wild  and  long,  from  all  but  two 
of  the  party,  rang  out  upon  the  still  air  of  the  desert, 
and  was  answered  on  the  instant  by  a  loud  yap-yap- 
yap- ya-hoo-oooo,  from  the  startled  wolves  which 
were  prowling  around  the  camp  by  dozens.  The 
stranger  stood  there  in  silence  and  in  doubt  for  a 
moment,  then  walked  sulkily  back  to  his  blankets  and 
lay  down.  Again,  and  yet  again,  the  loud  laughter 
pealed  forth  upon  the  night,  but  not  a  word  or  sound 
of  any  kind  came  from  the  blankets  where  Bill  was 
lying,  to  denote  his  consciousness  of  aught  which  was 
going  on  around  him.  He  had  played  that  hand  for 
all  it  was  worth,  and  was  fairly  raised  out  at  last. 

When  the  summits  of  the  distant  Harcuvar  Mount- 
ains were  glistening  with  the  rays  of  the  rising  sun, 
the  miners  of  the  fork  were  up  and  stirring,  as  was 
their  wont.  The  breakfast-bell  sounded,  and  a  rush 
was  made  for  the  diningf-room.  A  familiar  face  was 
missing,  and  for  the  first  time  in  weeks  there  was  a 
vacant  place  at  the  table.  Concatenation  Bill  was 
gone.  The  camp  which  had  known  him  so  long  was 
to  know  him  no  more  forever.  In  the  grey  dawn  he 
had  stealthily  risen,  folded  his  blankets,  packed  up 
his  traps,  saddled  his  hipshot  mule,  and  as  silently  as 
a  ghost  departed,  not  deigning  even  to  say  good  bye 


"MC  JACET." 


271 


to  anybody  about  the  premises.  What  became  of 
him  we  never  satisfactorily  ascertained.  The  road  to 
La  Paz  he  had  already  traveled  too  often ;  that  to- 
ward Salt  Lake  was  Hualapais ;  and  that  to  Prescott 
and  Tucson  was  swarming  with  Apaches.  Had  he 
taken  "the  road  which  Ward's  ducks  went?  "  We 
shuddered  at  the  thought,  but  he  may  have  done  so 
in  sheer  desperation. 

A  few  days  later,  the  writer  and  a  party  of  frontiers- 
men  friends  paused  beside  a  lowly  grave  on  the  road 
to  Skull  Valley,  over  which  some  wandering  Mexicans 
had  erected  a  cross  of  stones,  in  testimony  of  the  sup- 
posed fact  that  there  rested  the  remains  of  a  Christi- 
ano.  There  was  an  empty  bottle  by  the  side  of  the 
grave,  and  on  the  label  the  letters  "  C.  B."  Did  they 
stand  for  "Cognac  Brandy"  or  "  Concatenation  Bill  ?" 

The  party  were  about  equally  divided  on  the  ques- 
tion of  the  probabilities  ;  but  it  is  a  rule  on  the  frontier 
never  to  miss  an  opportunity  out  of  respect  to  a  mere 
uncertainty;  so  from  our  pocket- flasks  we  reverently 
drank  to  the  memory  of  the  illustrious  departed,  the 
hero  of  the  "the  Great  Indian  Fight  on  the  Gila  ;" 
then  rode  away  into  new  scenes  and  dangers  new,  and 
thenceforth  to  all  that  reckless  party,  save  the  writer, 
poor  Concatenation  Bill  was  as  dead,  and  almost  as 
nearly  forgotten,  as 

•'The  little  birds  that  sang 
A  hundred  years  ago." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

A  CRUISE  ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 

Night  Scenes  in  San  Francisco. — Low  Life. — Scene  in  a  Kecently  Suppressed 
Gambling  House. — Visit  to  the  Chinese  Quarter. — How  John  Chinaman 
Loses  His  Money. — The  Thieves  and  Rounders  of  San  Francisco. — How 
they  Live  and  where  they  Lodge. — The  Dance-Cellars. — Opium  Dens  and 
Thieves'  Ordinaries  of  the  Barbary  Coast. — How  the  San  Francisco  Police 
treat  Old  Offenders,  etc.,  etc. 

Every  city  on  earth  has  its  special  sink  of  vice, 
crime  and  degradation,  its  running  ulcer  or  moral 
cancer,  which  it  would  fain  hide  from  the  gaze  of 
mankind.  London  has  its  St.  Giles,  New  York  its 
Five  Points,  and  each  of  the  other  Atlantic  and  West- 
ern cities  its  peculiar  plague  spot  and  curse ;  it  is  even 
asserted  that  there  are  certain  localities  in  Chicago 
where  vice  prevails  to  a  greater  extent,  and  life,  virtue 
and  property  are  less  secure  than  in  others.  San  Fran- 
ciscans will  not  yield  the  palm  of  superiority  to  any- 
thing to  be  found  elsewhere  in  the  world.  Speak  of 
the  deeper  depth,  the  lower  hell,  the  maelstrom  of 
vice  and  iniquity — from  whence  those  who  once  fairly 
enter  escape  no  more  forever — and  they  will  point 
triumphantly  to  the  Barbary  Coast,  strewn  from  end 
to  end  with  the  wrecks  of  humanity,  and  challenge 
you  to  match  it  anywhere  outside  of  the  lake  of  fire 
and  brimstone. 
(272) 


THE  PEOPLE  WE  MEET.  2j~ 

Stroll  by  daylight  through  the  region  bounded  by 
Montgomery,  Stockton,  Washington  and  Broadway 
streets,  and  you  will  have  but  a  faint  idea,  a  very  in- 
adequate conception,  of  the  real  character  of  the 
locality.  A  few  red-faced,  frowzy  females  will  glance 
inquiringly  at  you  from  their  seats  just  inside  the 
doorways  of  the  minor  "dead- falls;"  little  dens,  with 
the  bar  stocked  with  well-drugged  liquors — which  to 
taste  is  to  look  death  in  the  face  and  defy  him — on 
one  side  of  the  front  room,  a  sofa  on  the  other,  and  at 
the  reaf  an  arched  opening  hung  with  tawdry  red  and 
white  curtains,  communicating  with  an  inner  room, 
into  the  hidden  mysteries  of  which  you  and  I  do  not 
care  to  penetrate.  Spanish- American  women,  clad  in 
solemn  black,  and  wrapped  to  the  eyes  in  their  dark 
rebozos,  fallen  and  hopelessly  degraded,  but  still  pre- 
serving something  of  the  grace  of  manner  and  speech 
which  distinguish  the  females  of  their  race  above  all 
others,  flit  quietly  past,  fixing  their  flashing  black 
eyes  inquiringly  upon  your  face,  but  making  no  salu- 
tation. Chinese  porters  or  "coolies,"  swinging  heavy 
burdens  on  the  ends  of  pliant  bamboo  poles  balanced 
on  their  shoulders,  and  changed  rapidly  from  side  to 
side  as  they  trot  quickly  along,  meet  you  at  every 
turn.  A  couple  of  small,  wiry,  supple  little  fellows, 
with  black  skins,  straight  black  hair,  with  little  black 
eyes  which  twinkle  like  those  of  a  snake,  carrying 
huge  baskets,  filled  with  soiled  clothing,  on  their 
heads,  may  attract  your  attention  next ;  they  are 
Lascar  or  Hindoo  washermen  from  the  Lagzma,  in  the 
western  part  of  the  city,  where  they  work.     You  will 


2  j  a  MONGOLIAN  BELLES. 

see  coming  forth  from  the  various  narrow  alleys 
which  intersect  the  main  streets,  and  are  known  by 
the  expressive  designations  of  "Murderer's  Alley," 
"China  Alley,"  "Stout's  Alley,"  etc.,  any  number  of 
Chinese  females,  clad  in  their  loose  drawers  or  pants 
of  blue  or  black  cotton  goods,  straight-cut  sacques  of 
broadcloth,  satin,  or  other  costly  or  cheap  material, 
according  to  their  condition  and  social  rank ;  shoes  of 
blue  satin,  richly  embroidered  with  bullion,  and  with 
thick  soles  of  white  felt  and  white  wood,  anklets  or 
bangles,  and  bracelets  of  silver,  gold,  or  jade-stone, 
and  lustrous  blue-black  hair,  braided  in  two  strands, 
hanging  down  the  back  from  beneath  coarse-striped 
gingham  handkerchiefs,  thrown  over  the  head,  and 
tied  beneath  the  chin  as  a  badge  denoting  slavery, 
and  a  life  of  hopeless  infamy ;  or,  if  the  owner  hap- 
pens to  be  the  wife  of  a  laborer,  tradesman  or  gam- 
bling-house proprietor,  wonderfully  gotten  up  with  a 
species  of  transparent  mucilage,  and  fashioned  into  a 
rudder-like  structure  sticking  out  fully  a  foot  behind, 
supporting  a  number  of  skewer-like  pins  of  gold  or 
silver,  each  six  or  eight  inches  in  length,  and  putting 
to  shame  by  its  size  and  cleanly  appearance,  the  water- 
falls of  our  Caucasian  belles — shuffle  along  in  groups 
of  three  or  four,  talking  and  laughing  together  like  so 
many  little  children,  or  exchanging  compliments, 
which  would  never  bear  translation  into  English,  with 
the  male  blackguards,  loafers  and  plug-uglies  of  their 
race.  These  women  are  intellectually  only  children, 
and  are  more  to  be  pitied  and  less  condemned  than 
the  fallen  of  their  sex  of  any  other  race.     Every  sec- 


«  THE   COAST"   BY  DA  YL1GHT. 

275 

ond  building  is  occupied  as  a  saloon,  in  which  no- 
body seems  to  be  stirring,  and  has  a  basement,  over 
the  door  of  which  is  painted  the  name  of  the  estab- 
lishment, as  "The  Roaring  Gimlet,"  "The  Bull's 
Run,"  "The  Cock  of  the  Walk,"  "Star  of  the  Union," 
"Every  Man  is  Welcome,"  etc.,  etc.,  but  now  closed 
and  apparently  unoccupied.  There  are  strains  of  ear- 
splitting  music  coming  occasionally  from  the  Chinese 
gambling-houses,  and  from  time  to  time,  as  you  walk 
along,  you  see  rows  of  Chinamen  seated  at  low 
benches  in  basements,  industriously  engaged  in  mak- 
ing up  "every  choice  brand  of  Havana  and  Domestic 
cigars,"  as  the  signs  over  the  doorways  inform  you. 
But  for  the  most  part,  the  dirty  shops,  saloons  and 
basements  have  a  thriftless,  tumble-down,  hopeless 
and  half-deserted  appearance,  and  you  finally  make 
up  your  mind  that  you  have  stumbled  into  a  part  of 
the  town  where  nothing  in  particular  is  ever  going 
on,  and  which  is  in  a  great  measure  deserted  and  go- 
ing into  gradual  but  certain  decline  and  decay.  Such 
is  the  "Barbary  Coast"  by  daylight;  but  by  gaslight 
or  moonlight  it  is  quite  another  thing,  and  you  would 
find  it  difficult  to  realize  that  this  was  the  sleepy,  half- 
deserted  locality  you  saw  in  the  morning. 

It  is  Saturday  evening,  in  the  middle  of  the  rainy 
season,  when  no  work  is  doing  upon  the  ranches,  and 
work  in  the  placer  mines  is  necessarily  suspended, 
and  the  town  fairly  swarms  with  "honest  miners" 
and  unemployed  farm-hands,  who  have  come  down 
from  the  mountains  and  "the  cow  counties"  to  spend 
their   money,  and   waste   their   time  and   health  in 


276  A   CRUISE   ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 

"doing"  or  "seeing  life"  in  San  Francisco.  The 
Barbary  Coast  is  now  alive  with  "jay- hawkers," 
"short-card  sharps,"  "rounders,"  pickpockets,  pros- 
titutes and  their  assistants  and  victims;  we  cannot 
find  a  better  night  on  which  to  pay  a  visit  to  the 
locality.  Half  a  dozen  of  us,  more  or  less,  make  up 
the  party,  and  we  start  out.  The  evening  is  pleas- 
ant, and  Montgomery  and  Kearny  streets  are  filled 
with  the  beauty,  fashion,  and  wealth  of  San  Francisco. 
A  military  company,  in  brilliant  uniform,  with  a  full 
and  very  superior  band,  returning  from  a  target  ex- 
cursion, pass  up  the  street,  attracting  the  attention  of 
the  throng  lor  a  moment ;  and  then  come,  in  turn,  a 
party  of  horsemen  and  horsewomen,  gaily  mounted, 
coming  in  from  the  Cliff  House  at  Point  Lobos,  or 
just  starting  out  for  a  night-ride,  who  dash  down  the 
street  at  a  gallop,  are  glanced  at,  criticised,  and  for- 
gotten. The  drift  of  the  crowd  is  toward  the  various 
places  of  amusement,  and  we  go  on  with  the  tide. 
Turning  up  Washington  street,  we  stop  in  front  of 
what  was,  a  few  years  since,  the  principal  theatre,  and 
looking  into  a  saloon  adjoining  the  main  entrance, 
a  scene  which  we  witnessed  there,  less  than  three 
years*  ago,  is  recalled  vividly  to  our  recollection. 
There  is  a  snug  little  saloon,  and  everything  is  as 
neat  and  orderly  and  business-like  in  appearance  as 
possible.  At  the  rear  of  the  room  is  a  green  door,  on 
which  hangs  a  card  inscribed  in  large  letters,  "Club 
Room — Now  Open."  Near  the  door  sits  a  well 
dressed,  gentlemanly  man,  who  scrutinizes  the  face 
of  each  man   as  he  passes  through  the  saloon,  and 


"ALL    YE    WHO  ENTER  HERE,"  ETC.  27? 

seems  to  be  connected  in  some  mysterious  manner 
with  what  is  going  on  in  the  interior  room.  Num- 
bers of  men,  mostly  young,  and  dressed  like  mechan- 
ics or  small  shop-keepers,  clerks,  etc.,  enter  the  saloon 
as  we  stand  drinking  at  the  bar,  and  pass  quietly  in- 
side. At  length  a  man  approaches  the  inner  door, 
who  is  recognized  by  the  man  sitting  in  the  chair 
as  an  objectionable  or  suspicious  character,  and  the 
latter,  with  a  quiet  motion  of  the  hand  toward  the 
outer  door,  says,  "I  don't  think,  sir,  the  man  you  are 
looking  for  is  inside!"  or,  "This  ain't  the  place  for 
you,  stranger;  better  walk  the  other  way;"  and  we 
hear  a  noise  inside  as  if  a  chain  had  been  let  down 
and  something  had  been  bolted,  which  is  quite  likely 
the  case.  The  bluffed  individual  departs  without  a 
word,  satisfied  that  there  is  nothing  to  be  made  by 
parleying,  and  we  advance  toward  the  door-keeper — 
for  such  he  really  is — in  turn.  He  looks  sharply  at 
us,  recognizes  us  by  a  quiet  nod,  and  glances  inquir- 
ingly toward  the  rest  of  the  party.  "Only  strangers 
from  New  York  going  the  rounds ;  no  shenanegan  or 
cops  in  disguise;  honor  bright!"  we  reply.  "All 
right ;  go  ahead!"  and  we  enter  the  door,  turn  to  the 
right,  go  down  a  flight  of  steps,  through  a  narrow  pas- 
sage, and,  following  the  gas-lights,  reach  and  enter 
a  third  door ;  passing  which  we  find  ourselves  in  a 
wide,  low  hall,  furnished  with  long  tables  covered  with 
glazed  cloth,  lighted  brilliantly  with  gas,  and  crowded 
with  men  who  are  gathering  in  groups  around  the 
different  tables.  The  air  is  close  and  hot,  and  the 
smell   none    of  the    most   agreeable.     Perhaps   two 


278 


A   CRUISE   ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 


hundred  men  are  in  the  room,  but  there  is  no 
hum  of  conversation,  and  even  the  smokers  hardly 
place  their  cigars  to  their  lips  often  enough  to  keep 
them  lighted.  At  the  tables  are  seated  dealers, 
dressed  in  long  black  robes,  which  completely  hide 
every  article  of  every-day  clothing  which  they  have 
on,  with  wire  masks  which  conceal  their  features, 
though  partially  transparent,  and  slouched  hats,  which 
hide  every  trace  of  hair,  making  subsequent  identi- 
fication absolutely  impossible.  This  is  done  to  pre- 
vent policemen — who  will,  in  spite  of  every  possible 
precaution,  occasionally  get  in,  disguised  in  such  man- 
ner as  to  defy  detection — from  being  able  to  identify 
the  dealers  and  prosecute  them.  The  assistants  of 
the  dealers  are  dressed  in  the  same  manner,  and  the 
players  never  see  the  faces,  recognize  the  clothing, 
or  hear  the  natural  voices  of  the  men  with  whom 
they  are,  by  a  stretch  of  the  imagination,  supposed  to 
be  playing.  The  silence  is  only  broken  by  the  chink 
of  coin,  and  the  monotonous  voice  of  the  dealer: 
"All  set;  all  made;  roll!  Black  wins!  All  set;  all 
made;  roll!  Red  wins!"  At  one  table  Monte  is 
dealt,  at  another  Faro,  at  another  Rouge-et-noir,  at 
another  Diana,  at  another  " Chuck-a-luck,"  at  another 
"Poker  dice,"  and  so  on.  You  can  be  accommoda- 
ted with  almost  any  game  you  want,  and  it  makes 
little  difference  in  which  you  invest.  "You  pays 
your  money,  and  you  takes  your  choice!"  You  will 
notice  that  the  players  all  appear  to  be  of  the  classes 
before  alluded  to  ;  there  are  none  of  the  flashily- 
dressed   clerks  from  the  fancy  dry-goods  stores,  no 


THE   GAMBLING  HELL. 


279 


cashiers    from    large    manufacturing,  commercial,    or 
banking  houses,  no  stock-brokers  and  others,  such  as 
you  may  see  in  the  more  high-toned    and  fashion- 
able hells  of  Montgomery,  California,  or  Sacramento 
streets.     The  players  draw  their  money  from  their 
pockets  with  the  air  of  men   who  earned  it  by  the 
sweat  of  their  brows,  and  are  loth  to  part  with  it,  but 
cannot  withstand  the  temptation  to  indulge  in  the  all- 
absorbing  passion  which  consumes  them.     Some  of 
these  men  are  taking  their  first  lessons  at  the  gaming 
table ;  others  have  been  depositing  four  fifths  of  their 
earnings   here  regularly  every  week  for  years,  and 
will  do  so  for  years  to  come.     The  walls  are  hung 
around  in  places  with  cards,  detailing  the  rules  of  the 
game,  and  everything  looks  and  speaks  "business." 
There  are  no    luxurious  chairs  and  sofas,  no  costly 
pictures,    no  soft  carpets,  and   no  sideboard  loaded 
with  substantiate  and  delicacies,  champagne,  oysters, 
rich  wines,  and  fiery  liquors  in  glittering  cut-glass  and 
silver  decanters  and  stands,  with  obsequious  negro  or 
Chinese  servants,  to  press  you  to  partake  gratuitously 
of  the  good  things  spread  before  you,  as  in  the  high- 
toned   hells.     The   business  of  the   place  is   naked 
gambling,  and  there  is  no  effort  to  hide  it  or  soften 
it  with  the  "social  amenities."     The  players  barely 
glanced  at  us  as  we  entered,  and  the  games  go  on. 
A  man  with  the  appearance  of  a  mechanic,  reaches 
over  the  monte  table  and  chucks  a  pile  of  silver  half- 
dollars  down  on  a  particular  card.     The  dealer  draws 
the  cards  with  a  steady  hand,  the  player  wins,  and 
the  assistant,  without  a  word,  shoves  toward  him  the 


2gQ  A   CRUISE   ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 

amount  of  his  winnings,  in  gold  or  silver.  Again 
the  player  wins,  and  again,  but  the  dealer  never 
alters  his  monotonous  drawl  for  a  moment,  and  ap- 
pears utterly  indifferent  to  the  result.  The  player, 
urged  on  by  nods  and  expressive  looks  from  his  com- 
panions, "presses  his  luck,"  and  the  wrong  card  is 
drawn  out;  the  assistant  reaches  out  his  rake,  and 
hauls  his  pile  toward  the  bank.  The  player  draws 
a  long  breath,  with  a  half-muttered,  half-suppressed 
curse,  and  takes  from  his  pocket  a  $20  piece,  which 
he  pitches,  with  an,  affectation  of  carelessness,  down 
upon  the  nearest  card.  That,  too,  goes  with  the  rest 
into  the  pile  before  the  cashier  of  the  bank;  another 
and  another  follows,  and  at  last  the  player  wins  again. 
Then  he  loses  again,  and  again,  and,  suddenly  starting 
up,  strikes  his  hand  upon  his  empty  pocket,  and  walks 
quietly  out  of  the  room,  without  a  word.  Another 
victim  takes  his  place,  and  so  it  will  go  on  all  night. 
Now  and  then  a  man  will  leave  the  room  "ahead  of 
the  game,"  but  you  notice  that  the  bank,  be  the  game 
what  it  may,  wins  six  times  out  of  ten  on  the  average, 
and,  of  course,  must  in  the  long  run  always  break  the 
players.  We  have  had  enough  of  this — let  us  go 
elsewhere,  you  say  ;  and  we  walk  out,  our  exit  attract- 
ing as  little  attention  as  did  our  entrance. 

Times  have  changed  sadly  of  late,  as  any  old  Cali- 
fornian  will  tell  you.  The  police  are  around  now 
every  night,  watching  for  all  such  "sinful  games," 
and  such  scenes  as  we  have  just  been  depicting  are 
no  longer  to  be  witnessed  in  San  Francisco,  though 
gambling  in  a  different  way  is  just  as  common  as  ever. 


IN  THE  FLOWERY  LAND. 


28l 


And  now,  where  ?  As  we  have  seen  how  our  Cau- 
casian fellow-citizens,  when  unrestrained  by  the  offi- 
cers of  the  law,  fool  away  their  money  at  the  gaming- 
table, suppose  we  go  up  to  Dupont  street  and  see 
how  the  Mongolians  do  that  sort  of  thing.  We  pass 
up  Washington  street  a  couple  of  blocks,  leaving  the 
City  Hall,  with  the  gloomy  "  calaboose"  in  its  base- 
ment, and  the  bright  little  garden-plat  of  a  plaza  on 
our  left,  and  turn  to  the  right  into  Dupont  street.  We 
are  close  on  the  Barbary  Coast.  A  moment  since  we 
were  exclusively  among  Caucasians,  male  and  female, 
well  dressed,  and  for  the  most  part  talking  our  lan- 
guage ;  we  have  gone  hardly  ten  steps,  and  seem  to 
be  in  another  world.  The  uncouth  jargon  of  the  Ce- 
lestial Empire  resounds  on  every  side.  The  stores 
are  filled  with  strange-looking  packages  of  goods  from 
the  Orient ;  over  the  doorways  are  great  signs,  with 
letters  in  gold  or  vermillion,  cut  into  the  brilliant  blue 
or  black  groundwork,  the  purport  whereof  we  know 
not.  Little  women  in  black  or  blue  silk  sacques  and 
loose  trousers,  hair  wonderfully  gotten  up,  and  slip- 
pers with  soles  an  inch  or  two  in  thickness,  such 
as  we  saw  running  around  by  daylight,  gaze  at  us  with 
their  almond-shaped  black  eyes,  and  nod  knowingly 
at  the  policeman  who  has  kindly  volunteered  to  ac- 
company us.  Men  with  long  queues  hanging  down 
their  backs  to  their  very  heels,  and  clad  in  the  cos- 
tume of  a  far-off  land,  crowd  the  sidewalks,  and  jostle 
each  other  and  ourselves  around  the  lottery -shops 
and  the  doors  of  their  own  oamblinor- houses.  The 
air  is  redolent  of  a  strange,  dreamy  odor,  which  you 


2g2  A    CRUISE   ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 

recognize  as  that  of  opium  and  tobacco  mingled,  and 
if  it  be  during  the  time  of  the  Chinese  New  Year's 
holidays  in  February,  there  is  an  incessant  roar,  as 
of  musketry,  from  the  explosion  of  fire  -  crackers, 
which  are  thrown  into  the  streets  in  packages  and  by 
the  box,  from  every  store,  gambling-house,  restau- 
rant and  dwelling,  until  the  atmosphere  is  one  blue 
cloud  of  powder-smoke,  and  the  pavement  is  covered 
with  the  red  husks  of  millions  of  the  popping  nui- 
sances. We  notice  numerous  narrow  doorways,  with 
cloth  siens,  with  huee  Chinese  characters  over  them. 
These  are  the  entrances  to  the  gambling-houses.  At 
each  sits  a  vigilant  guardian,  or  doorkeeper,  as  silent  as 
the  Sphynx,  with  his  hands  tucked  up  into  his  sleeves, 
and  his  face  as  rigid  and  impassive  as  that  of  the 
great  image  of  Josh  in  the  Buddhist  temple  a  few 
blocks  away.  He  speaks  to  no  one  unless  accosted  ; 
and  you  would  never  dream  what  a  thinking  he  keeps 
up,  and  how  much  he  takes  in  with  those  little  half- 
closed  eyes  of  his.  Behind  him  we  see  an  open  door, 
a  long  narrow  passage,  and  another  door  at  the  end. 
From  the  inner  retreat  comes  strange,  discordant — to 
our  ears — and  not  over-attractive  music,  the  air  being 
almost  always  the  same,  and  closely  resembling 

"  The  boat  lies  high,  the  boat  lies  low, 
She  lies  high  and  dry  on  the  Ohio  ! " 

Chinamen  are  entering  or  coming  out  at  every 
moment,  and  why  should  we  not  enter  too.  We  ap- 
proach the  door,  and  the  wooden-looking  doorkeeper 
suddenly  starts  up  as  wide-awake  as  you  or  I,  and 


JOHN  "NO  SHABBE?  „q„ 

stamps  his  foot  on  the  floor.  We  see  the  door  fly 
shut,  as  in  a  pantomime,  no  human  agency  being- 
visible,  hear  a  bar  fall  "  chump"  against  it  from  be- 
hind, hear  the  rattling  of  a  chain,  and  it  is  all  up  with 
us  there.  We  miorht  kick  at  the  thick  door  until  we 
were  tired,  and  expostulate  with  old  Confucius  there 
until  morning,  and  it  would  avail  us  nothing.  He 
knows  what  he  is  there  for,  and  we  need  not  waste 
our  precious  time  on  him.  "No  shabbe  !  "  is  the  only 
answer  we  can  get  to  all  our  inquiries ;  and  he  does 
not  even  wink  when  we  shake  two  four-bit  pieces  un- 
der his  nose.  Better  luck  next  time,  perhaps !  We 
try  again  a  few  doors  further  down  the  street — same 
result.  It  is  evident  that  our  friend  the  policeman  is 
not  looked  upon  with  favor  by  the  sentinels  at  the 
gateways  of  the  palaces  of  sudden  wealth,  and  we 
suggest  to  him  that  he  withdraw  to  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street,  and  still  keep  an  eye  on  us.  Attempt 
No.  3.  We  see  a  peculiarly  pleasant-looking  China- 
man, whose  face  is  familiar  to  us,  at  one  of  the  door- 
ways, and  approach  him:  "Good  evening,  John." 
"Good  eening,  gentlemen."  "Look  here,  John; 
these  gentlemen  come  allee  way  from  New  York. 
No  policeeman  ;  wantee  see  you  house  ;  makee  littee 
talkee;  no  more!  You  shabbee,  John?  "  John,  with 
bland,  benevolent  expression  of  countenance,  which 
promises  well,  and  raises  our  expectations  to  the  high- 
est pitch,  bows  gently,  and  thus  delivers  himself: 
"You  likee  see  me  ;  have  littee  talkee,  eh  ?  Welly 
good!  Me  likee  see  you,  allee  same.  You  come 
to-morrow,    four  o'clock  !  "      Bang  goes    the  door, 


2%a  A   CRUISE   ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 

down  cornes  the  bar,  the  chain  rattles  inside,  and  John, 
with  a  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  inwardly  chuckling 
over  his  own  astuteness,  and  the  weakness  of  the  out- 
side barbarians  who  took  him,  an  old  Mongolian,  for 
a  greeny,  bows  almost  to  the  floor,  and  says  with 
condescending  politeness,  "Good  eening,  gentlemen; 
hope  you  hab  bellee  good  sleep!"  "Why,  blame  the 
scoundrel ;  he  has  moved  the  previous  question  and 
us  also,  and  that  cuts  off  all  debate!"  exclaims  one 
of  our  party.  And  he  looked  so  pleasant  and  accom- 
modating. "Come  again  to-morrow,  four  o'clock," 
indeed  !  There  is  a  Celestial  joke  for  you !  We  had 
better  give  up  the  attempt  to  see  the  inside  of  a  Chi- 
nese gambling-house,  and  go  farther  down  the  Coast 
in  search  of  amusement.  We  retrace  our  steps,  and 
go  a  little  way  up  Washington  street  to  an  alley,  per- 
haps fifteen  feet  in  width,  running  through  the  block 
northwards  to  Jackson  street.  This  is  "China  Alley," 
and  is  occupied  solely  by  Chinese  prostitutes.  The 
houses  are  all  small  brick  affairs,  coming  flush  up  to 
the  edge  of  the  alley,  and  have  windows  with  wickets 
in  them,  made  by  setting  one  pane  of  glass  in  a  frame 
by  itself,  and  hanging  it  on  hinges.  There  is  a  front 
and  a  rear  room  to  each  of  these  little  dens ;  and,  as 
we  walk  along,  we  can  see  all  the  arrangements  of 
the  outer  rooms.  Each  of  these  places  appear  to  be 
inhabited  by  from  two  to  half  a  dozen  Chinese  girls, 
some  of  whom  are  dressed  in  hoops  and  long  dresses 
"Melican"  style,  but  for  the  most  part  are  clad  in  the 
costume  of  their  own  country.  These  poor  creatures 
are  all  slaves,  bought  with  a  price  in  China,  and  im- 


"SOCIAL  EVIL"    IN  CHINATOWN.  2g„ 

ported  by  degraded  men  of  their  own  race,  who,  des- 
pite our  laws,  contrive  to  hold  them  to  a  life-long 
servitude,  which  is  a  thousand  times  more  hopeless 
and  terrible  than  the  negro  slavery  of  Louisiana  or 
Cuba  could  ever  be.  They  have  been  reared  to  a 
life  of  shame  from  infancy,  and  have  not  a  single  trace 
of  the  native  modesty  of  women  left.  They  are,  as 
we  have  said,  mere  children  in  point  of  intellect,  hav- 
ing no  education  whatever,  and  no  experience  of  the 
world  outside  of  the  narrow  alleys  in  which  they  have 
always  lived,  and  the  emigrant  ship  in  which  they 
were  brought  over  to  this  country.  They  have  their 
likes  and  their  dislikes,  of  course,  and  become  attached 
to  each  other  in  a  childish  way,  frequently  being  seen 
walking  together  on  the  streets,  hand  in  hand,  like 
little  Caucasian  sisters  going  home  from  school.  At 
very  long  intervals,  some  of  these  poor  untutored  chil- 
dren of  the  East  become  imbued  with  Western  notions 
of  liberty  and  right,  and  making  their  escape  from  the 
clutches  of  their  masters,  become  joined  in  lawful 
marriage  to  some  laborious  washerman,  or  other  coun- 
tryman, and  endeavor  to  settle  down  to  an  honest 
life ;  but  their  chances  of  escaping  kidnapping,  and 
being  dragged  away  to  some  distant  locality,  beaten, 
and  reduced  again  to  prostitution  and  slavery,  are 
very  slim  indeed.  The  owner  in  such  cases  has  al- 
ways a  personal  grudge,  as  well  as  a  pecuniary  loss, 
to  urge  him  on  to  vindictive  measures ;  and  he  will 
willingly  spend  ten  times  the  value  of  his  escaping 
chattel  to  get  her  back  again,  and  have  his  revenge. 
Besides,  the  safety  of  this  peculiar  institution  demands 


2 55  A   CRUISE   ON  THE  B4RBARY  COAST. 

that  the  most  rigorous  measures  should  be  taken  in 
every  case,  as  an  example  to  deter  others  from  follow- 
ing in  the  same  vicious  course.  The  girls  cost  $40 
each  in  Canton,  but  are  valued  here  at  about  $400^ 
if  passably  good-looking,  young  and  healthy,  and 
readily  sell  at  that  figure  in  cash,  or  approved  paper. 
Each  colony  of  half  a  dozen  girls  is  under  the  imme- 
diate control  of  an  "  old  mother,"  herself  a  retired 
prostitute,  who  jealously  watches  over  each,  and  re- 
ceives from  them  the  wages  of  their  shame  as  fast  as 
earned.  From  each  wicket  all  the  way  down  the  al- 
ley a  female  head  may  be  seen  protruding,  and  there 
is  a  constant  fire  of  jokes  and  repartee  going  on  be- 
tween the  occupants  of  the  dens  on  each  side  of  the 
alley,  while  every  passer  comes  in  for  his  share  of 
personal  notice.  A  girl,  with  hair  carefully  braided 
and  decked  with  artificial  flowers,  and  cheeks  and 
lips  cunningly  painted  so  as  to  resemble  those  of  her 
frail  Caucasian  sisters,  notices  us  looking  toward  her 
wicket,  and  instantly  raising  her  hand,  taps  at  the  win- 
dow, but  at  the  moment  catches  a  glimpse  of  the  po- 
liceman behind  us,  and  shuts  the  wicket,  and  turns 
away  as  if  she  had  not  seen  us  at  all.  The  alarm  runs 
down  the  whole  alley  in  an  instant ;  there  is  a  rattling 
of  wickets,  as  if  a  hurricane  was  sweeping  through  the 
place,  and  in  half  a  minute  all  is  as  silent  as  the  grave, 
and  not  a  head  to  be  seen.  It  is  a  special  misde- 
meanor under  our  city  ordinances  for  a  Chinawoman 
to  tap  on  a  window  to  attract  the  attention  of  any- 
body on  the  street ;  and  the  girls  well  know  what  is 
in  store  for  them  if  they  are  caught  at  it  by  the  police. 


CELESTIAL    GAMBLING. 


287 


We  walk  through  the  alley,  and  we  emerge  upon 
Jackson  street,  stumble  upon  Ah  Ting,  a  Sacramento 
street  merchant,  as  shrewd  and  smart  as  any  down- 
east  Yankee,  who  is  walking  with  the  swell  Chinese 
doctor,  Li-Po-Tai,  who  created  such  an  excitement 
in  San  Francisco   on  his  arrival,  a  few  years  since ; 
and,  laying  all  nonsense  aside,  really  does  perform 
some  almost  miraculous  cures.     Ah  Ting  is  our  friend ; 
he  will  get  us  into  a  Chinese  gambling- house  at  once. 
He  sends  off  the  policeman,  as  one  too  many  in  the 
party,  and  walking  across  the  street,  approaches  the 
guardian  of  one  of  the  temples  of  finance,  confidentially 
says  a  few  words  to  him,  and  in  we  go.     The  room 
is  bare  and  plain  ;  nothing  attractive  in  its  decorations, 
and  the  air  is  blue  with  the  smoke  of  opium  and  fla- 
vored tobacco,  from  the  little  cigarritos  between  the 
lips   of  nearly  every  man   in  the  room.     There  are, 
perhaps,  fifty  Chinamen,  of  the  lower  class,  crowded 
around  a  lone  table,  behind  which  sits  the  banker,  a 
benevolent-looking  old  fellow  in  huge  spectacles,  satin 
blouse  and  skull-cap.     In  one  corner  of  the  room  is 
the  band,  consisting  of  a  woman,  richly  dressed,  and 
painted,  with  a  hair-rudder  standing  out  from  behind 
her  head  in  startling  proportions,  playing  on  a  three- 
stringed  guitar,  a  pock-marked  scoundrel  of  the  male 
sex  playing  on  a  two-stringed  fiddle,  which  he  holds 
between  his  feet,  and  another  who  beats  the  infernal 
tom-tom  with  sticks,   making  discord-  of  what  might 
otherwise  be  considered  an  apology  for  music.    From 
tkne  to  time  the  woman  breaks  forth  in  a  wild,  plain- 
tive air,    in  a  voice  not  bad  in  itself,  but  pitched  at  a 


2gg  A   CRUISE   ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 

key  as  high  as  the  ordinary  whistle  of  a  steam-engine. 
This,  Ah  Ting  tells  us,  is  "  the  Song  of  the  Jasmine 
Flower,"  and  we  agree  with  one  of  the  party,  who 
suggests  that  the  aforesaid  jasmine  flower  must  have 
grown  on  a  hill-side,  in  hard  stony  soil,  exposed  to 
high  winds,  and  had  a  hard  time  of  it  generally.  The 
game  which  is  being  dealt  is  "Than,"  or  "Tan,"  a 
kind  of  "odd  and  even"  affair  ;  we  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  it  would  be  odd  indeed  if  anybody  ever 
got  even  by  playing  at  it.  It  looks  all  fair  enough  to 
an  outsider.  The  dealer  has  on  the  table  before  him 
a  pile  of  "copper  cash,"  or  Chinese  bronze  coin,  each 
about  the  diameter  of  our  old-fashioned  copper  cents, 
now  out  of  use,  but  only  about  one  fourth  as  heavy, 
and  with  a  square  hole  in  the  centre.  These  coins 
are  of  the  value  of  the  thousandth  part  of  a  Mexican 
dollar,  or  a  tenth  part  of  one  cent ;  and  in  trade  in 
China  are  used  mostly  strung  on  strings  of  a  hundred 
or  a  thousand  each,  for  convenience  in  handling  and 
to  save  counting.  Picking  up  a  handful  of  these  coins, 
apparently  at  random,  before  the  eyes  of  the  players,  he 
puts  them  down  on  the  table  and  covers  them  instantly 
with  a  common  Chinaware  bowl  inverted.  The  players 
then  make  their  bets  on  the  number  coming  out  odd 
or  even,  and  also  on  guessing  the  exact  number,  the 
bank  always  taking  the  chances  against  the  betters 
on  either  side.  He  then  raises  the  bowl,  and  with 
a  wire,  about  fourteen  inches  in  length,  crooked  at 
the  end,  pulls  the  coins  rapidly  into  little  parties  of 
four  each,  so  that  anybody  can  count  them  almost  at 
a  glance.     If  you  bet  on  odd,  and  an  odd  number  is 


HEADS  I   WIN;    TAILS    YOU  LOSE.  „cv 

found  to  have  been  under  the  bowl,  you  win ;  if  you 
hazard  a  guess  at  the  actual  number  and  hit  it — about 
as  much  chance  of  your  doing  so  as  of  your  being  hit 
by  lightning  in  San  Francisco — you  win ;  or,  if  you 
bet  that  the  last  little  pile  drawn  out  will  contain  four, 
three,  two,  or  only  one  coin,  and  hit  it,  you  win.  It 
all  appears  as  fair  as  the  day,  and  yet  you  cannot  but 
notice  that  the  bank  gets  rich  and  the  players  poor,  by 
regular  degrees,  all  the  time.  Of  course  there  must  be 
a  percentage  in  favor  of  the  bank  somewhere,  but  you 
cannot  see  where  it  is  if  you  watch  the  game  all  night. 
The  lower  classes  of  the  Chinese  are  inveterate  game- 
sters, and  must  all  know  that  there  is  such  a  percent- 
age, which  must  ruin  the  player  in  the  long  run;  but, 
like  gamblers  of  other  nations,  they  keep  at  it  as  long 
as  they  have  a  cent,  and  return  to  it  the  moment  they 
have  made  another  raise  of  a  dollar  or  two.  We  have 
been  admitted  as  a  special  favor,  and  of  course  must 
"patronize  the  house,"  so  we  select  a  Chinaman  who 
speaks  a  little  English,  and  ask  him  to  act  as  an  agent 
in  the  transaction.  He  is  only  too  willing  to  accom- 
modate us.  A  half-dollar  is  staked  on  "  odd"  and  we 
lose;  another  on  "even,"  and  we  lose  again;  then 
one  on  the  exact  number,  and  our  agent  turns  to  us 
and  explains,  with  many  shrugs,  bows  and  apologies, 
that  he  regrets  very  much  that  we  did  not  win  that 
time,  as,  had  we  done  so,  we  should  have  doubled  our 
money  as  many  times  as  there  were  pieces  in  the  pile. 
We  reoret  as  much  as  he  does  that  our  luck  did  not 
run  that  way,  and  tell  him  so  with  as  many  bows, 
shrugs  and  .apologies  in  return.     "Well,  hopee  you 


2g0  A   CRUISE  ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 

catchee  him  next  time !  "  Not  if  we  know  ourself,  oh 
ingenuous  and  unsophisticated  son  of  the  Occident! 
That  game  is  played  out,  so  far  as  we  are  concerned! 
We  have  seen  all  we  can  see,  and  learned  all  we  care 
to  learn  here,  so  we  will  go  on  somewhere  else  in  our 
search  for  useful  knowledge.  "Good  night,  John" — 
to  the  banker.  "Good  night,  John ;  please  you  come 
again  uddah  time!"  he  replies,  and  we  part  company, 
with  assurances  of  distinguished  consideration  all 
round,  and  emerge  on  the  street  again. 

Our  policeman  rejoins  us,  and  we  go  on  down  to 
Pacific  street,  the  roughest  and  least  pacific  of  the 
streets  on  the  Barbary  Coast.  The  whole  street,  for 
half  a  dozen  blocks,  is  literally  swarming  with  the 
scum  of  creation.  Every  land  under  the  sun  has 
contributed  toward  making  up  the  crowd  of  loafers, 
thieves,  low  gamblers,  jay-hawkers,  dirty,  filthy,  de- 
graded, hopeless  bummers,  and  the  unsophisticated 
greenhorns  from  the  mines,  or  from  the  Eastern  States, 
who,  drawn  here  by  curiosity,  or  lured  on  by  specious 
falsehoods  told  them  by  pretended  friends  met  on  the 
ocean  or  river  steamers,  are  looked  upon  as  the  legiti- 
mate prey  of  all  the  rest.  The  number  of  prema- 
turely-old young  men,  mere  boys  in  years,  but  cen- 
tenarians in  vice  and  crime  ;  sallow,  wrinkled,  pimpled, 
dirty,  stoop -shouldered,  disgusting  in  language  and 
action,  who  drift  up  and  down  the  Coast  as  we  stand 
looking  on,  astonishes  you.  They  seem  to  make  up 
the  bulk  of  the  passers  on  the  sidewalks.  You  never 
see  this  class  of  fellows  even  in  this  locality  by  day ; 
they  seem  to  shun  the  light  of  the  sun,  and  only  crawl 


AMONG    THE  BUMMERS.  2QI 

forth  at  night  to  feast  on  unclean  things,  and  fatten 
on  rottenness  and  corruption.  Some  of  them  have 
parents  in  California,  doubtless,  but  the  great  majority 
have  left  homes  in  some  far-off  land,  where  they  are 
often  spoken  of  with  pride  by  confiding  mothers,  sis- 
ters and  brothers,  who  know  nothing  of  their  actual 
status  in  society  here — well  for  them  that  they  do 
not.  "I  have  a  son  in  California.  I  have  not  heard 
from  him  in  several  years,  but  he  was  doing  well  when 
he  wrote  last,"  says  a  fond  mother  in  the  Atlantic 
States.  Well  for  you,  oh  mother,  that  you  cannot 
stand  with  us  this  evening,  and  see  him  floating  with 
the  tide,  a  hopeless  wreck,  along  the  slime-covered 
shores  of  the  Barbary  Coast!  From  the  "deadfalls," 
as  the  low  beer  and  dance  cellars  are  designated, 
which  line  both  sides  of  the  street,  and  abound  on  all 
the  streets  in  this  vicinity,  come  echoes  of  drunken 
laughter,  curses,  ribaldry,  and  music  from  every  con- 
ceivable instrument.  Hand- organs,  flutes,  pianos, 
bagpipes,  banjos,  guitars,  violins,  brass  instruments 
and  accordeons  mingle  their  notes  and  help  to  swell 
the  discord.  "Dixie"  is  being  drummed  out  of  a  pi- 
ano in  one  cellar;  in  the  next  they  are  singing  "John 
Brown;"  and  in  the  next,  "Clare's  Dragoons,"  or 
"Wearing-  of  the  Green."  Women  dressed  in  flaunt- 
ing  colors  stand  at  the  doors  of  many  of  these  "dead- 
falls," and  you  frequently  notice  some  of  them  saluting 
an  acquaintance,  perhaps  of  an  hour's  standing,  and 
urging  him  to  "come  back  and  take  just  one  more 
drink."  Ten  to  one  the  already  half- drunken  fool 
complies,  and  finds    himself  in   the  calaboose  next 


oq2  A   CRUISE   ON  THE  BARBARY   COAST. 

morning,  with  a  broken  head,  utterly  empty  pockets, 
and  a  dim  recollection  of  having  been  taken  some- 
where by  some  woman  whom  he  cannot  identify,  and 
finding  himself  unexpectedly  in  the  clutches  of  men 
he  never  saw  before,  who  go  through  him  like  a  po- 
liceman, taking  from  him  watch,  chain,  and  every 
other  valuable,  and  pitch  him  headlong  down  a  stair- 
way ;  after  which  all  is  a  blank  in  his  memory.  All 
these  dens  are  open  and  in  full  blast,  yet  we  see  few 
persons  going  in  or  out  who  appear  like  customers, 
and  they  do  not  seem  to  be  selling  lager  or  whisky 
enough  to  pay  for  gaslight.  Look  in  the  papers  to- 
morrow morning,  and  you  will  see  items  like  this  : 

Robbed  on  the  Barbary  Coast.  —  John  Smith,  a  miner  from 
Mud  Springs,  El  Dorado  County,  came  down  on  the  Sacramento 
boat  last  evening,  and  put  up  at  the  What  Cheer  House.  On  his 
way  to  the  hotel,  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  man  who  claimed 
to  know  a  friend  of  his  who  had  worked  with  him  at  mining  in  1858, 
on  the  south  fork  of  the  Yuba.  The  two  started  out  in  search  of 
this  mythical  friend,  and  visited  numerous  deadfalls  without  finding 
him.  They  drank  at  each  place  they  visited,  however,  and  about 
one  o'clock  this  morning  Smith  reached  the  calaboose  in  a  half- 
stupified  condition,  and  charged  a  girl  known  as  "Pigeon-toed-Sal," 
whose  headquarters  are  in  a  deadfall  near  the  corner  of  Kearny 
and  Pacific  streets,  and  her  male  confederate,  with  robbing  him  of 
$800,  her  companion  holding  him  down  while  she  searched  his 
pockets,  and  took  the  money  from  them.  Officers  Smith  and  Brown 
arrested  Sal  and  her  confederate,  the  "  Billy  Goat,"  and  locked 
them  up  on  the  charge  of  grand  larceny,  but  it  is  doubtful  if  the 
charge  can  be  sustained,  as  the  money  was  not  recovered,  and  the 
friends  of  the  accused  will  fee  a  lawyer  with  the  money,  and  hire 
the  witnesses  for  twenty-five  per  cent,  to  leave  the  State,  or  swear 
that  Smith  had  agreed  to  marry  the  girl,  and  gave  her  the  money 


THE   JAY-HAWKERS. 

as  a  free  present,  telling  her  to  purchase  the  necessary  outfit  for  the 
wedding  with  it.  It  is,  in  all  probability,  the  old  story  of  the  fool 
and  his  money. 

A  few  such  items  will  enlighten  you  on  the  ques- 
tion of  how  the  proprietors  of  so  many  of  these  well- 
named  "  deadfalls"  manage  to  make  a  living. 

Three  men  come  up  the  street  as  we  stand  on  the 
sidewalk  looking  and  listening,  and  two  of  them  eye 
our  friend  the  policeman  uneasily  as  they  pass.  These 
two  are  unmistakably  of  the  Algerine  pirate  class,  and 
the  third  evidently  a  middle-aged  greenhorn  from  the 
mining  country.  The  officer  comprehends  the  situa- 
tion at  a  glance,  and  stepping  forward,  says  emphati- 
cally, "Look  here,  Jack;  I  told  you  once  before  to 
get  out  of  the  jayhawking  business,  and  not  let  me 
catch  you  on  the  Coast  again.  And  you,  Cockeye  ; 
when  did  you  come  back  from  over  the  Bay?  I'll 
bag  you  both,  as  sure  as  I'm  a  living  man,  if  I  catch 
either  of  you  on  my  beat  again.  You  can  go  this 
time,  but  cuss  me  if  it  ain't  your  last  chance.  Toddle, 
blast  you,  and  don't  let  me  see  you  again  !  "  The 
young  fellows  slink  away  without  a  word,  like  rene- 
gade curs  caught  in  the  act  of  killing  sheep,  and  the 
officer  addresses  himself  to  their  intended  victim. 
"Look  here,  old  fellow  ;  those  fellows  picked  you  up 
at  the  wharf,  or  around  the  What  Cheer,  and  pre- 
tended they  used  to  know  you  at  home.  They  are 
two  State  Prison  thieves,  and  would  have  robbed  you 
before  daylight,  sure.  Now,  you  go  back  to  your 
hotel,  put  your  money  in  the  safe,  and  go  to  bed,  or 
I'll  lock  you  up  for  a  drunk;  do  you  hear?"     The 


294 


A    CRUISE   ON  THE   BARBARY  COAST. 


countryman  stares  a  moment  with  blank  astonishment, 
and  then,  with  many  thanks,  tells  the  officer  just  what 
the  latter  had  already  told  him,  and  leaves  the  Bar- 
bary  Coast  in  all  haste. 

"Do  you  want  to  see  what  they  are  doing  in  these 
places  ?  "  says  the  officer.  "  Come  in  herewith  me." 
We  enter  what  appears  to  be  an  ordinary  "corner 
grocery,"  with  piles  of  potatoes,  onions,  soap,  can- 
dles, and  other  ordinary  goods,  in  boxes  and  bags, 
stacked  up  in  front.  Everything  looks  quiet  and 
respectable,  but  the  German  or  French  proprietor  of 
the  place  glances  anxiously  at  our  escort,  who  pushes 
open  a  green  Venetian  blind,  which  serves  as  a  door 
at  what  appears  to  be  the  back  of  the  room,  and  mo- 
tions for  us  to  enter.  Here,  in  an  inner  room,  for 
which  the  grocery  in  the  front  is  but  a  screen  in  reality, 
we  find  some  twenty  rascally-looking  negroes  from 
Panama,  the  West  Indies,  Peru  and  Guiana,  sitting 
round  dirty  tables,  playing  draw-poker  and  other 
swindling  games,  with  greasy,  fairly  stinking  cards, 
for  money  which  we  know  they  never  honestly  earned. 
"  Hulloa,  that  is  you,  is  it  ?  You  are  a  healthy  crowd, 
yoti  are !  One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven,  eight, 
nine  '  old  cons.'  One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven 
chain-gang  customers;  and  six  that  ought  to  be 
hanged,  and  will  be,  sooner  or  later."  Having  thus 
classified  the  occupants  of  the  place,  for  our  and  their 
benefit,  the  officer  leads  us  out  once  more  on  the 
street. 

We  next  enter  a  similarly  appearing  establishment, 
in  which  there  are  a  billiard-table  in  the  back  room, 


A  GOODLY  COMPANY.  2QC- 

and  a  promiscuous  crowd  of  Chileiios,  Peruvians,  and 
other  Spanish- American  cut-throats,  playing  "pool," 
with  any  amount  of  small  change  changing  hands  at 
every  game.  "  That  sharp-nosed  fellow  with  the 
billiard-cue  in  his  hand  murdered  a  peddler  at  New 
Almaden  a  few  years, since,  but  his  woman  swore 
him  clear.  That  hook-nosed  villain  smokine  there 
inthe  corner,  is  a  horse-thief  from  San  Jose ;  he 
has  been  over  the  Bay  (z.  e.,  in  State  Prison,  or  San 
Ouentin,  across  the  Bay  from  San  Francisco)  three 
times,  and  will  go  again  soon,  I  reckon.  That  little 
fellow  there  with  the  scar  on  his  face  is  a  monte  deal- 
er; and  that  one  with  one  eye  is  a  burglar."  And  so 
our  official  friend  runs  on  through  the  list,  and  we 
retire. 

We  next  enter  a  low  room  on  the  ground  floor  of 
a  rickety,  old  frame-building,  which  has  stood  here 
since  1 849,  and  passing  the  screen  which  shuts  off  the 
view  from  the  street,  find  a  bar  stocked  with  every 
species  of  liquid  poison,  at  "  5  cents  a  glass."  A  rough- 
looking  Irishman  is  behind  the  bar ;  two  miserable, 
bloated,  loathsome- looking,  drunken  white  females 
are  quarrelling  with  each  other  in  front ;  on  the  set- 
tee ranged  alonor  the  wall  sits  a  third  wreck  of  female 
humanity,  swearing  like  a  pirate,  and  cursing  "the 
perlice"  at  every  breath;  while  a  man  with  a  face 
like  a  diseased  beef's  liver,  who  once  represented  a 
Western  State  in  Congress,  is  patting  her  on  the  back 
caressingly,  and  endeavoring  vainly  to  quiet  her,  lest 
the  police  outside  should  hear  her  and  make  a  raid  on 
the  establishment.     In  one  corner,  a  party  of  Kanaka 


2q5  a  cruise  on  the  barbary  coast. 

sailors,  from  a  Honolulu  whaling- vessel,  are  holding 
a  drunken  pow-wow;  but  as  we  cannot  understand  a 
word  of  their  language,  we  pass  them  with  a  glance. 
At  the  sight  of  our  companion,  the  policeman,  the 
woman  on  the  sofa  breaks  out,  like  a  maniac,  in  fresh 
curses  and  vituperation,  and  stepping  to  the  door  he 
gives  a  long,  sharp  whistle.  Two  answering  whistles 
are  heard,  and  in  a  few  seconds  two  more  policemen 
arrive,  and  start  with  the  furious  woman  between  them 
for  the  calaboose. 

Guided  by  the  music  of  violins,  guitars  and  a  piano, 
and  the  tramping  of  many  feet,  we  descend  a  narrow 
stairway,  and  find  ourselves  in  one  of  the  most  noto- 
rious dance-cellars  of  San  Francisco.  There  is  a  low 
bar  at  one  side  of  the  room,  near  the  entrance,  and 
at  the  farther  end  a  raised  platform  for  the  musicians. 
About  forty  young  women  and  girls,  ranging  down 
to  ten  or  twelve  years  of  age,  dressed  in  gaudy,  flaunt- 
ing costumes,  and  with  eyes  lighted  up  with  the  bale- 
ful glare  of  dissipation,  are  on  the  floor,  dancing  with 
as  many  men,  of  all  ages :  rowdies,  loafers,  pimps, 
thieves,  and  their  greenhorn  victims  ;  while  perhaps 
fifty  men  of  the  same  stamp  stand  looking  on  and  ap- 
plauding the  performers.  The  room  is  blue  with  to- 
bacco-smoke, and  reeking  with  the  fumes  of  the  vilest 
of  whisky.  Half  a  dozen  men,  or  overgrown  boys, 
are  sitting  or  lying  on  the  floor  in  various  stages  of 
inebriety,  but  they  are  unnoticed  by  the  other  occu- 
pants of  the  place.  Every  time  a  man  takes  a  part- 
ner for  the  dance  he  pays  fifty  cents,  half  of  which 
goes  to  the  establishment  and  half  to  the  girl,  and  at 


BARBARY  COAST  LODGINGS  „Q~ 

the  close  of  each  dance  he  generally  takes  her  to  the 
bar  and  treats  her.  We  notice  with  thankfulness  that 
the  females  appear  to  be  almost  all  of  foreign  birth, 
the  exceptions  being  Spanish-Americans,  with  occa- 
sionally an  Indian  girl,  who  has  been  raised  as  a  ser- 
vant in  some  family  in  San  Francisco,  but,  Indian-like, 
prefers  a  life  of  idleness,  vice  and  degradation  to  one 
of  comfort  and  honest  labor.  This  place  has  been 
the  scene  of  many  a  savage  affray  and  brutal  murder ; 
and  often  have  we  seen  the  sawdust  on  its  floor  red 
with  the  blood  of  some  victim  of  the  knife  or  bullet. 
It  is  long  past  midnight,  but  the  drunken  orgies  go 
on  unchecked,  and  will  do  so  for  hours  yet,  if  no 
bloody  row  occur  to  end  them  prematurely. 

"  Do  you  want  to  see  where  these  people  lodge  ? 
Come  along  with  me,"  says  our  official  friend.  We 
notice  many  large  lamps  with  "Lodgings  25,  50  and 
75  cents  per  night,"  painted  thereon,  are  hanging 
at  the  doors  of  dirty,  dilapidated-looking  buildings. 
We  enter  one  of  these  places  without  ceremony.  A 
wrinkled  old  hag  sits  in  an  outer  band-box  of  an 
office,  to  receive  the  pay  in  advance  from  the  custom- 
ers of  the  establishment.  "Who  have  you  got  in 
here  to-night,"  demands  the  man  of  the  star.  "Well, 
we  ain't  began  to  fill  up  much  yet;  but  there's  Tom 
Reynolds,  an'  Constable  Bob,  an'  Bluey,  an'  Calla- 
han, and  a  few  others.  I  hope  you  don't  want  any  on 
'em  now,  do  ye?  "  replies  the  hag.  Relieved  by  the 
assurance  that  the  visit  is  only  one  of  curiosity,  not 
on  behalf  of  the  law,  the  old  creature,  with  a  chuckle 
of  satisfaction,  leads  the  way  with  the  lamp,  and  we 


2gg  A    CRUISE   ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 

go  through  the  premises.  The  rooms  where  the 
lodgers  at  25  cents  a  night  are  stowed  away  are 
fitted  with  bunks,  like  the  forecastle  of  a  vessel,  and 
each  lodger  has  a  narrow  straw  mattress,  a  pair  of 
blankets — perhaps  dirty  sheets  as  well — and  a  pulu 
pillow.  The  dozen  bunking  thus  in  one  room  have  not 
money  or  valuables  enough,  all  put  together,  to  pay 
any  one  of  the  number  for  the  trouble  of  going  through 
the  pockets  of  the  rest,  and  they  can  rest  in  peace  un- 
til evening  comes  again,  when  they  emerge  on  the 
streets  once  more,  to  resume  their  pursuit  of  plunder. 
When  one  of  these  fellows  makes  a  raise  by  "  rolling 
a  drunk"  (2.  e.,  taking  the  valuables  from  the  pockets 
of  a  drunken  man  on  the  sidewalk),  "  cracking  a  crib," 
or  "jay hawking  a  Webfoot"  (robbing  a  green  Ore- 
gonian),  he  will  take  a  single  bed  at  37^  cents  in  the 
next  room,  which  is  a  little  better  furnished,  and  has 
two  or  three  bedsteads  in  place  of  the  bunks ;  and, 
should  his  luck  be  extraordinarily  good,  and  a  fat 
pigeon  fall  in  his  way  and  get  plucked,  he  will  prob- 
ably go  one  degree  further,  and  invest  50  cents  in  a 
room  with  one  double-bed,  and  invite  one  of  the  frail 
females  from  the  dance-cellar  near  at  hand,  or  some 
one  of  the  numerous  deadfalls  in  the  vicinity,  to  share 
his  wealth  with  him.  But  for  50  cents  a  night  a  man 
could  eet  a  eood  bed  at  a  second  or  third  class  lode- 
ing-house  in  a  decent  locality.  Yes,  but  you  forget 
that  the  patrons  of  such  establishments  as  we  are  now 
in  are  all  known  to  the  police,  and  could  not  get  ad- 
mitted anywhere  else,  except  in  disguise,  and  then 
only  for  a  short  time,   if  they    had  any  amount  of 


CATCHING  A    TARTAR.  2Qq 

money  to  pay  their  way  with.  That  is  why  they 
must  sleep  here  or  on  the  street. 

Bidding  the  old  hag  good  morning,  we  next  visit  a 
huge  three  or  four  story  building,  with  a  large  area 
in  the  centre,  and  galleries  all  around  the  inside,  cut 
up  into  almost  innumerable  little  rooms,  which  are  let, 
furnished,  at  so  much  per  month,  to  the  "pretty  beer- 
slingers"  and  their  male  companions.  Every  girl 
attending  in  the  beer- cellars  has  a  male  friend — some- 
times her  husband,  but  not  often — who  fights  her  bat- 
tles, robs  her  of  her  earnings,  and  not  unfrequently 
plunders,  by  collusion  with  her,  the  inebriated  green- 
horns whom  she  entices  into  her  den  after  the  dead- 
fall has  closed  for  the  night. 

Bang  !  bang !  bang !  What  was  that  ?  We  hear 
the  sharp  whistle  of  a  policeman  and  several  answer- 
ing whistles,  and  run  out  to  the  street  to  see  what  is 
going  on.  The  story  is  soon  told.  An  officer  has 
met  three  well-known  thieves  skulkinsf  through  an 
alley  with  something  in  bags  on  their  backs.  On 
general  principles,  he  orders  them  to  halt,  and  is  an- 
swered with  a  staggering  blow  with  a  slungshot  by 
one  of  them.  To  draw  his  revolver  and  let  fly  at  each 
in  succession  is  the  work  of  an  instant.  One  of  the 
desperadoes  is  shot  through  the  heart  and  falls  dead  in 
his  tracks ;  one  is  lying  on  the  ground  with  his  right 
thigh-bone  shivered  by  the  bullet,  so  that  it  will  re- 
quire amputation  ;  and  the  third,  barely  hit  in  the  side, 
has  thrown  up  his  hands,  and  stands  waiting  for  the 
irons  to  be  put  on  him.  The  police  clear  the  field  of 
action  in  a  few  minutes,  and  on  searching  the  bags  find 


-00  A  CRUISE   ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 

a  quantity  of  valuable  goods  just  taken  from  a  grocery 
store  on  Pacific  street,  which  the  defeated  party  had 
broken  open  and  plundered.  (This  occurred  just  as 
related  quite  recently ;  the  two  survivors  are  now  in 
the  State  Prison — one  of  them  with  a  wooden  leg — 
and  the, officer  is  still  on  the  police  force.) 

The  excitement  being  over,  the  officer  conducts  us 
through  a  narrow  alley  swarming  with  Chinese  pros- 
titutes, and  reeking  with  a  thousand  separate  stinks, 
each  more  abominable  than  the  other,  to  see  what  he 
designates  as  a  "Chinese  Hoo-doo  House."  In  a 
back  room,  hidden  entirely  from  the  gaze  of  passers 
in  the  alley,  we  find  a  crowd  of  the  lowest  class  of 
Chinese,  who  are  enjoying  themselves  in  various 
ways.  There  is  an  altar  at  one  end  of  the  room,  with 
a  Joss,  in  gorgeous  vermilion  and  blue,  sitting  erect 
at  the  back.  His  face  bears  the  same  expression  of 
conscious  power,  rest,  and  complete  self-satisfaction 
which  is  seen  on  that  of  his  more  aristocratic  brother 
in  the  Buddhist  temples  on  Dupont  and  Pine  streets, 
and  he  holds  the  fingers  of  his  uplifted  hand  in  the 
same  mysteriously  significant  position.  But  instead 
of  rich  satin  garments  and  costly  hangings  of  crimson 
silk  and  wonderful  gilt  filagree  work,  he  is  clad  in 
tawdry  cotton  -  stuffs  and  surrounded  by  hangings  of 
trifling  value.  The  altar-ornaments  are  porcelain 
instead  of  bronze  metal,  and  the  meat-offerings  before 
him  are  not  such  as  would  tempt  the  appetite  of  a 
well-regulated  and  healthy  immortal,  while  the  incense 
which  is  burning  under  his  nose  is  redolent  of  tobacco 
and  garlic  rather  than  of  sandal- wood  and  the  costly 


<MON STRUM  HORRENDUM,"  ETC.  „OI 

perfumes  lavished  on  the  altars  of  the  high-class  tem- 
ples. In  an  alcove  on  one  side  of  the  room  is  a  raised 
couch,  spread  with  matting,  and  provided  with'  braided 
split-cane  pillows,  for  the  accommodation  of  the  opium 
smokers,  two  of  whom  are  now  stretched  out  at  full 
length  thereon,  gazing  into  vacancy  with  fixed,  star- 
ing eyes,  unconscious  of  all  that  is  passing  around 
them,  and  wrapped  in  the  wild  hallucinations  called 
into  existence  by  the  fumes  of  the  deadly  drug,  which 
is  sooner  or  later  to  utterly  prostrate  them,  bodily  and 
mentally,  and  send  them,  after  awful  sufferings,  to  fill 
untimely  graves.  Did  not  Christian  England  wage 
a  savage  war  upon  Heathen  China,  that  the  opium 
trade  should  not  be  broken  up?  Why  then  talk  of 
abolishing  it,  now  that  it  has  become  the  curse  which 
is  destroying  the  whole  Mongolian  race  ?  We  are  not 
missionaries,  and  did  not  come  here  to  preach.  Round 
a  table,  a  party  of  coolies  are  engaged  in  gambling, 
for  "copper  cash,"  with  dominoes,  playing  the  game 
very  rapidly,  and  with  consummate  skill,  though  in  a 
different  manner  from  that  known  by  the  name  with 
us.  On  another  table  we  see  a  strange  collection  of 
nondescript  effigies,  made  of  highly-colored  paper  and 
slips  of  pliant  cane.  One  resembles  in  outline  a  goat, 
but  has  the  head  of  an  alligator,  and  the  figure  astride 
its  back  is  that  of  a  man  with  a  cock's  head  on  his 
shoulders.  The  next  figure  has  the  body  of  a  lion, 
a  horse's  head,  and  a  fish's  tail,  and  is  ridden  by  a 
man  with  the  head  of  an  ox,  and  a  sword  in  his  hand. 
A  Chinaman,  who  appears  to  understand  English, 
volunteers   to   explain  these  mysteries  to    us.     We 


302 


A   CRUISE   ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 


question  him,  and  he  answers  "yes"  and  "  no"  alter- 
nately to  everything  we  ask  him.  "  Why,"  says  one 
of  our  party,  "this  must  be  Chief  Crowley?  "  "Yes, 
Chief  Clowly!"  replies  our  celestial  cicerone.  "And 
this  must  be  Capt.  Lees? "  "No  Capt.  Lees  all  same," 
responds  John.  "Why,  blame  me  if  he  is  not  repeat- 
ing every  word  after  me  like  a  parrot ;  he  don't  under- 
stand a  word  of  what  we  are  saying."  Further  ques- 
tioning establishes  the  fact  that  such  is  the  case,  and 
despairing  of  gaining  any  useful  knowledge  under  such 
circumstances,  we  give  a  quarter  to  the  least  repulsive- 
looking  female  in  the  band  who  are  making  night 
hideous  with  their  unearthly  music,  and  depart  in 
disgust. 

One  more  sight  before  we  leave  the  neighborhood. 
The  officer  leads  us  a  few  doors  farther  down  the  al- 
ley, and  enters  a  low  door  into  a  room,  dimly  lighted 
by  a  China  nut-oil  lamp.  Stretched  on  the  floor  of 
this  damp,  foul-smelling  den,  are  four  female  figures. 
These  miserable  wretches  are  the  victims  of  the  most 
fearful  and  loathsome  disease  with  which  the  ven- 
geance of  God  has  cursed  sinful  humanity,  and  having 
been  pronounced  incurable  by  the  Chinese  doctors, 
and  refused  admission,  under  our  laws,  to  the  alms 
house  and  public  hospital,  are  here  dying,  by  inches, 
a  slow,  lingering,  horrible  death.  One  of  them,  at 
our  request,  lifts  from  her  face  a  cloth  which  hid  it, 
and  in  place  of  mouth,  lips,  cheeks  and  nose,  we  see 
a  horrible  cavity,  formed  by  the  eating  away  of  the 
flesh  until  the  bare  bones  are  exposed,  as  in  the  grin- 
ning effigy  of  a  death's  head  on  some  ancient  tower. 


MURDER.  ,Q 

With  a  sensation,  beside  which  seasickness  is  delight- 
ful,  we  rush  from  the  room  and  regain  the  alley,  de- 
termined to  see  no  more. 

One  more  sensation  is  yet  in  store  for  us.  As  we 
emerge  on  Jackson  street  once  more,  we  are  met  by 
an  officer,  who  tells  us  that  another  of  those  horrible, 
mysterious  murders  of  fallen  women,  which  have  hor- 
rified the  community  over  and  over  again,  and  baffled 
and  set  at  defiance  the  detective  powers  of  the  city 
officials,  has  been  perpetrated  in  Stout's  Alley.  He 
leads  up  into  the  alley,  and  along  it  to  within  a  few 
yards  of  Washington  street,  and  an  officer  at  the 
door,  who  is  keeping  back  the  curious  crowd  of  men 
and  women  which  was  gathered  on  hearing  the  news, 
admits  us  to  the  house  where  the  tragedy  has  been 
enacted.  There  are  two  rooms  on  the  main  floor, 
which  had  been  occupied  by  the  French  woman,  now 
dead.  In  the  front  one  is  a  bed  luxuriously  furnished, 
a  bureau,  wardrobe,  table,  etc.,  and  in  the  back  room 
a  wash-stand,  stove,  and  some  cooking  utensils  and 
crockery.  Her  male  friend  slept  up  stairs,  and  knew 
nothing  of  the  tragedy  going  on  below.  The  police 
are  busily  at  work  searching  for  clues,  to  lead  to  the 
detection  of  the  murderer,  but  all  in  vain.  On  the 
floor  in  the  front  room,  the  body  of  the  miserable 
victim  is  lying  in  a  pool  of  blood,  the  skull  fractured 
by  a  blow  with  a  chair,  which  lies  shivered  by  her 
side,  and  the  throat  cut  from  ear  to  ear  with  a  dull 
knife,  taken  from  the  other  room  by  the  murderer. 
The  bed  is  drenched  with  blood,  and  a  pillow,  thrown 
against  the  wall  at  the  other  side  of  the  room,  is  sat- 


oq4  A   CRUISE   ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST. 

urated  with  it.  It  is  evident  that  the  murderer  arose 
from  her  side  while  she  slept,  dealt  her  a  stunning 
blow  with  the  chair,  then  ran  into  the  back  room  and 
got  the  knife.  On  returning,  he  found  her  standing 
up  on  the  floor,  she  having  staggered  to  her  feet  and 
endeavored  to  make  her  way  to  the  door,  probably 
with  some  dim,  undefined,  instinctive  impulse,  to  call 
for  assistance.  He  has  then  got  her  down  upon  the 
floor,  stifled  her  voice  with  the  pillow,  and  finished 
his  work  with  the  knife.  He  has  then  risen,  searched 
her  trunk  and  bureau- drawers  for  money  and  valu- 
ables, felt  his  way  into  the  back  room,  and  there 
washed  his  hands  and  face,  wiping  the  bloody  water 
off  them  upon  the  towel,  dressed  himself,  and  then 
coolly  departed.  This  much  can  be  inferred  by  the 
marks  of  blood  on  the  wall,  of  bloody  hands  upon  the 
clothing  in  the  trunk  and  bureau,  on  the  lace  curtains 
and  on  the  middle  door,  but  all  else  is  idle  conjec- 
ture, and  the  murderer  carries  the  secret  with  him  to 
the  grave,  despite  the  efforts  of  a  really  efficient  and 
energetic  police. 

Out  in  the  street  once  more.  The  city  is  silent, 
and  the  streets  deserted  at  last ;  we  have  seen  enough 
for  one  night ;  enough  for  a  life-time  of  this  sort  of 
thing,  you  say.  Well,  we  will  not  quarrel  with  you 
on  a  matter  of  taste.  And  so,  just  as  the  first  faint 
light  of  the  grey  dawn  begins  to  flush  the  eastern 
horizon  beyond  the  Contra  Costa  hills,  we  break  up 
our  little  party,  and  wend  our  way  to  our  several 
homes.  Thus  ends  our  long-  night's  "Cruise  on  the 
Barbary  Coast." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

FROM  THE  ORIENT  DIRECT. 

Arrival  of  a  China  Steamer  at  San  Francisco.— Her  Passengers  and  Cargo. — 
A  Horseback  Trip  to  Mount  Diablo. — Ascending  the  Mountain. — The  Mag- 
nificent View  from  the  Summit. 

Well,  what  next?  We  have  done  the  Mission 
Dolores  and  its  quaint  old  red  tile-roofed,  adobe 
walled,  and  curiously  ornamented  altar,  standing  amid 
the  graves  of  the  pious  fathers,  whose  faith  led  them 
here  and  helped  them  to  rear  this  structure  on  the  far 
confines  of  heathendom,  generations  ago.  We  have 
galloped  over  the  broad  macadamized  road — out  past 
Lone  Mountain,  with  its  City  of  the  Dead  gathered 
around  the  tall,  white  shaft  which  marks  the  resting- 
place  of  the  gallant  Broderick,  and  Mount  Calvary, 
with  another  City  of  the  Dead  gathering  around 
the  white  cross  gleaming  from  its  summit — to  Point 
Lobos,  where  we  have  seen  the  ships  from  Europe, 
Asia,  Australia,  the  Atlantic  ports,  and  the  islands  of 
the  Pacific,  come  sailing  in  through  the  Golden 
Gate.  From  the  balcony  of  the  Cliff  House,  over- 
hanofinQf  the  roaring  breakers,  we  have  looked  down 
for  hours  with  never- flagging  interest,  upon  those 
stranee  monster  survivors  of  the  World  Before 
the  Flood,  the  sea-lions,  as  they  crawled  from  the 
(305) 


„06  WHAT  TO  DO. 

depths  of  the  slimy  sea  upon  the  rugged  rocks,  writh- 
ing and  wriggling  as  if  in  mortal  agony,  fighting  and 
howling  in  infernal  chorus,  over  the  degeneracy  of 
the  days  upon  which,  through  some  mistake  never 
fully  explained,  they  have  fallen,  ages  and  ages  after 
their  co-inhabitants  of  the  primeval  world  had  per- 
ished. Fruit  we  have  indulged  in  to  a  surfeit.  Wine  ? 
We  went  round  through  the  cellars  yesterday  until 
our  heads  were,  or  felt  as  if  they  were,  as  large  and 
as  full  as  the  great  casks  holding  thousands  of  gallons, 
in  which  the  champagne  was  being  prepared  for  bot- 
tling. The  Barbary  Coast,  with  its  reeking  vice, 
seething  crime,  and  nameless,  unutterable  human  deg- 
radation, we  did  last  night ;  this  evening  we  do  the 
Chinese  Theatre  ;  to-morrow  the  Geysers  ;  next  week 
the  Big  Trees  and  Yosemite.     But  what  to-day? 

There  is  a  small  white  flag,  inscribed  with  the  letters 
U.  S.  M.,  flying  from  each  of  the  San  Francisco  street 
cars  as  it  passes ;  a  mail  steamer  from  some  part  of 
the  world  has  entered  the  Golden  Gate.  From  the 
direction  of  North  Beach,  a  messenger  of  the  Mer- 
chants' Exchange  comes  galloping  at  full  speed  along 
Stockton  street,  his  half-wild  Spanish  horse— with 
head  erect,  nostrils  distended,  and  lustrous  eyes  (the 
glory  alike,  of  Spanish  steeds  and  women)  that  flash 
like  coals  of  fire — bounding  over  the  rough  pavement 
as  proudly  as  if  conscious  that  he  bore  the  fate  of 
Caesar  and  his  empire.  "What  is  it?"  we  call  out  as 
the  messenger  flies  past  us.  "The  Great  Republic, 
from  China  and  Japan,"  is  the  answer  he  gives,  with- 
out even  turning  his  head  to  see  who  asked ;  and  the 


THE  WHARF.  „0j 

]oud  report  echoing  over  the  city  tells  us  that  the 
proud  steamer,  which  has  borne  our  starry  flag  to  the 
uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  is  safe  in  port,  and  is 
rounding  Telegraph  Hill  on  her  way  up  the  harbor  to 
the  wharves  of  the  P.  M.  S.  S.  Co.,  at  Rincon  Point. 
Eureka!  here  is  the  wished- for  sensation.  Let  us  be 
off  for  South  Beach! 

Looking  down  from  Rincon  Hill,  we  see  the  long 
shed-covered  wharf  of  the  Pacific  Mail  Steamship 
Company  stretching  far  out  into  Mission  Bay  to  the 
southward,  huge  steamers  lying  in  the  docks,  or  at 
anchor  in  the  stream,  a  stone's  throw  off,  and  in  front, 
outside  the  high,  closed  gates,  a  vast  crowd  of  Euro- 
peans, Americans,  and  Asiatics  commingled,  and  a 
jam  of  vehicles  of  every  description,  gathered  in  an- 
ticipation of  the  steamer's  arrival  at  her  wharf.  De- 
scending the  hill  and  making  our  way  slowly  through 
the  crowd,  we  reach  the  gates  at  last,  and  approach- 
ing the  group  of  police-officers  on  duty,  offer  the  card 
inscribed,  "Admit  the  Bearer  on  Great  Republic" 
which  was  received  at  the  company's  office  on  Sacra- 
mento street,  as  a  special  courtesy  from  the  great  cor- 
poration. The  officer  has  already  recognized  our 
companion. as  a  member  of  the  San  Francisco  "press- 
gang,"  and  passes  us  through  the  side  door  with  a 
quiet  nod,  not  even  condescending  to  look  at  our 
ticket.  Passing  down  the  long-  wharf,  between  the 
great  steamers  lying  on  either  hand,  we  find  in  wait- 
ing a  few  vehicles — hacks  sent  to  bring  away  some 
particular  persons  known  to  be  on  board,  the  United 
States  mail  and  express   wagons — some  gentlemen 


3o3 


FROM  THE    ORIENT  DIRECT. 


and  ladies  who,  having  friends  on  board,  have  secured 
passes  to  go  inside  the  gates,  a  crowd  of  custom-house 
officers,  detectives  in  the  employ  of  the  company,  the 
captain  of  the  San  Francisco  police,  with  his  entire 
watch,  in  grey  uniforms,  and  armed  with  clubs  and 
revolvers,  and  fifty  to  one  hundred  leading  Chinese 
merchants,  consignees  of  the  cargo,  or  representatives 
of  the  "Six  Companies,"  to  whom  all  the  Celestial 
emigrants  or  immigrants  are  consigned. 

The  "  Great  Republic,"  flying  the  flag  of  our  country, 
that  of  the  P.  M.  S.  S.  Co.,  and  the  yellow  dragon 
of  China,  has  meantime  rounded  Rincon  Point,  and 
is  lying  in  the  stream,  off  the  southern  end  of  the 
wharf,  with  hawsers  out,  vainly  endeavoring,  against 
the  strong  ebb  tide,  to  warp  into  her  berth  on  the 
western  side.  The  bow  hawser  parts  at  last,  and  she 
drifts  out  towards  Yerba  Buena  Island,  then  swings 
slowly  round  under  steam,  heads  towards  San  Jose, 
and  then,  when  about  half  a  mile  away,  turns  grace- 
fully, and,  with  her  monster  wheels  beating  the  bay 
into  a  foam,  comes  rushing  at  full  speed  directly  down 
toward  the  wharf.  The  picket  gates  which  separate 
the  southern  end  of  the  shed  from  the  section  of  open 
wharf  beyond,  are  opened  in  an  instant  by  the  officers, 
and  the  people  rush  at  their  utmost  speed  down  towards 
the  northern  gateway,  apprehensive  lest  the  levia- 
than, now  approaching  with  the  fleetness  of  a  race- 
horse, should  miss  the  point  aimed  at  by  a  few  feet, 
knock  the  pine-timber  built  wharf  into  kindling-wood, 
and  send  those  upon  it  into  Davy  Jones'  locker  in  an 
instant.     Needless  alarm !     The  monster  of  the  deep 


THE   PANORAMA    OF  THE   ORIENT.  „„~ 

3°9 

obeys  her  helm  to  perfection,  comes  rushing  swiftly 
into  her  berth  right  alongside  the  wharf,  and,  before 
we  have  ceased  wondering  at  the  immense  proportions 
of  this  magnificent  specimen  of  American  marine  ar- 
chitecture, her  wheels  are  reversed,  and  she  has  ceased 
to  move.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  we  observe  that 
her  main  deck  is  packed  with  Chinamen — every  foot 
of  space  being  occupied  by  them — who  are  gazing  in 
silent  wonder  at  the  new  land  whose  fame  had  reached 
them  beyond  the  seas,  and  whose  riches  these  swart 
representatives  of  the  toiling  millions  of  Asia  have 
come  to  develop.  The  great  gangway -planks  — 
bridges  they  might  be  called  more  appropriately — 
are  run  out  from  the  wharf  and  hoisted  into  place ; 
the  health-officer,  who  had  boarded  the  steamer  off 
"the  Heads,"  comes  down  bowing  and  smiling  as  he 
parts  with  the  officers  of  the  vessel,  the  custom-house 
officers  ascend  to  the  decks,  the  detectives  and  police- 
men range  themselves  at  the  gangways  fore  and  aft, 
and — hats  off  in  front  ! — the  grand  panorama  of  the 
Orient  is  about  to  be  unrolled  ! 

The  forward  gangway  is  reserved  for  the  disem- 
barkation of  Chinamen  exclusively ;  the  after  gang- 
way is  for  the  cabin  passengers,  mostly  Americans 
and  Europeans.  Several  Chinese  merchants,  neatly- 
dressed  and  quiet,  gentlemanly-behaved  men,  attempt 
to  go  on  board  by  the  after  gang-plank,  and  are  hurled 
back  with,  it  would  seem,  needless  violence  by  the 
officers  stationed  there.  The  sub-agents  and  em- 
ployes  of  the  Six  Companies,  who  attempt  to  reach 
the  main-deck  by  the  forward  gangway,  are  repulsed 


oIO  FROM  THE   ORIENT  DIRECT. 

with  even  greater  rudeness  and  force:  the  orders  are 
that  none  shall  be  allowed  to  go  on  board  until  the 
custom-house  officers  have  done  their  work.  Half  a 
dozen  United  States  Navy  officers,  from  the  squadron 
in  Chinese  and  Japanese  waters,  coming-  home  on 
leave  of  absence,  come  down  the  after-gangway,  and 
are  told  to  get  their  luggage  all  together  in  one  place 
on  the  wharf,  and  it  will  be  passed  immediately  by  the 
officers.  Their  lacquered  boxes,  trunks,  open-work, 
rattan  chairs  and  lounges  for  reclining  upon  in  a  trop- 
ipical  climate,  boxes  of  rare  plants,  and  small  collec- 
tions of  "curios"  from  the  far  East — West  it  seems 
to  us — are  soon  run  through,  and  chalked  with  the 
names  of  the  examining  officers,  and  they  enter  car- 
riages in  waiting,  and  are  driven  away  to  the  hotels. 
A  stout-built,  manly- looking  American,  forty  years 
of  age  or  thereabouts,  comes  down  the  plank,  and  a 
fair-faced  woman,  who,  with  her  four  half-grown-up 
children  around  her,  has  been  standing  patiently  for 
hours  in  a  corner  of  the  building  on  the  wharf,  grows 
suddenly  pale  in  the  face,  runs  towards  him,  and  with 
the  single  exclamation,  "O  Joe!  "  has  her  arms  around 
his  neck  in  an  instant.  A  few  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
looking  curiously  about  them,  issue  from  the  cabin, 
point  out  their  luggage  on  the  wharf,  receive  the 
proper  directions,  and,  entering  carriages  admitted 
through  the  gates  one  at  a  time  to  receive  them,  are 
hurried  away,  apparently  half  glad  at  finding  them- 
selves standing  on  the  solid  land  once  more,  half 
sorry  to  part  from  those  with  whom  they  have  voy- 
aged across  the  broad  Pacific,  and  dared  the  perils  of 


A   CELESTIAL    BELLE.  ~  j  l 

the  sea.     And  now  from  the   cabin  emerges  a  tiny- 
creature,  clad  in  costly  robes  of  satin,  richly  embroid- 
ered, and  stands  at  the  upper  end  of  the  plank  in  the 
gangway  opening,  as  if  in  doubt  which  way  to  turn  or 
how  to  proceed.     She  is  not  more  than  four  feet  in 
height — slender  and  graceful  of  figure.     Her  lustrous 
blue-black  hair  is  puffed  out  at  the  sides  and  fashioned 
into  a  wonderful  rudder-shaped  structure  behind,  sup- 
ported with  gold  and  silver  skewer-like    ornaments 
thrust  through  it;  and  her  head,  guiltless  of  hat  or 
bonnet,  is  surmounted  by  a  small  wreath  of  bright- 
colored  artificial  flowers.     Her  face  is  really  pretty — 
the  features  being  delicately  formed — despite  the  ob- 
liquity of  the  almond-shaped  eyes,  and  the  slight  pro- 
jection of  the  anything  but  Grecian  nose.     Her  com- 
plexion, naturally  whiter  than  that   of  the  common 
working  people  of  her  country,  has  been  so  cunningly 
improved  by  her  maid-servant — who  could  teach  our 
enamellers  and  beautifiers  the  first  rudiments  of  their 
profession— that  she  is  as]  fair  to  look  upon   as  the 
blonde  beauties  of  our  race,  and  you  would  hesitate 
long  before  you  would  swear  whether  the  red  which 
tinges  her  cheeks  and  lips  is  real  or  the  work  of  "high 
art"  in  its  perfection.     Her  tunic  or  sacque  is  of  sky- 
blue  satin,  embroidered  with  flowers  in  bright- colored 
silk;  her  wide,  loose  trousers  of  darker  blue  satin, 
similarly   but   more    elaborately    embroidered ;    and 
her  dainty  little  feet  are  encased  in  slippers  of  blue 
satin,  with  gold- bullion  embroidery  and  thick  white 
felt  soles,  with  thin  bottoms  of  polished  wood.     In 
her  hand  she  holds  two  fans,  with  which  she  endeav- 


.,  j  2  FROM  THE   ORIENT  DIRECT. 

ors  to  keep  her  face  hidden  as  far  as  possible  from 
the  public  gaze.  Timid  to  the  last  degree  she  seems, 
and  probably  is,  and  she  looks  neither  to  the  right 
nor  the  left,  but  keeps  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  plank 
beneath  her,  as  if  anxious  to  avoid  the  sight  of  every- 
thing else  in  the  world.  As  she  stands  there  in  the 
open  gangway,  she  looks  the  perfect  counterpart  of 
something  we  have  seen,  or  dreamed  of,  before.  Ah, 
yes;  we  remember  now!  Thirty  years  ago — fifteen 
or  sixteen  years  before  this  little  thing  was  born — 
our  big  cousin  came  home  from  a  sailing  voyage 
round  the  world,  and  among  the  curious  things  he 
brought  with  him  was  a  book  of  rice-paper,  white  as 
snow  and  soft  as  velvet,  each  leaf  of  which  bore  a 
single,  wonderfully  elaborate  little  picture,  in  colors 
more  brilliant  than  the  rainbow ;  her  picture,  correct 
and  perfect  in  the  most  minute  detail,  was  there;  no  one 
could  fail  to  recognize  it  at  a  glance.  She  is  the  bride 
of  an  opulent  Chinese  merchant  of  San  Francisco, 
who  has  been  home  to  get  her ;  his  parents  selected 
her  for  him  from  one  of  the  most  respectable  families 
in  the  Central  Flowery  Empire,  and  he  had  no  trouble 
with  courting:  and  such  like  Caucasian  nonsense.  He 
leads  her  down  the  plank,  the  bracelets  and  bangles 
of  silver  and  green  semi-transparent  stone  which  en- 
circle her  wrists  and  ankles,  clinking  musically  as  she 
walks ;  and  at  the  wharf  a  policeman,  detailed  for  the 
purpose,  receives  and  escorts  the  party  through  the 
crowd,  which  opens  respectfully  before  the  end  of 
his  club,  and  they  enter  a  carriage.  Another  and 
another  come  down  the  plank ;  the  last  two  are  ac- 


JOHN  BULL.  „T„ 

companled  by  bright -eyed,  richly -dressed  children, 
who  follow  mechanically  in  their  mother's  footsteps, 
furtively  glancing-  at  the  strange  crowd  as  they  pass 
through  it.  These  are  the  wives  and  offspring  of 
Chinese  merchants  resident  here,  who  married  before 
coming  to  California ;  you  had  better  take  a  good 
look  at  them  now,  while  you  can,  for  they — the  wo- 
men and  female  children — will  be  kept  in  the  strict- 
est seclusion  from  the  moment  they  set  foot  in  their 
husbands'  and  fathers'  houses,  and  they  may  live  many 
years,  and  die,  here  in  the  midst  of  a  great  Christian 
city,  and  yet  never  be  looked  upon  by  Caucasian 
eyes.  You  may  purchase  exquisite  pictures,  on  rice- 
paper,  of  these  "first-chop"  Chinese  ladies,  at  the  ba- 
zaar of  Chy  Lung  &  Co.,  on  Sacramento  street,  but 
the  living  married  Chinese  women  or  respectable 
young  girls  you  will  never  so  much  as  catch  a  glimpse 
of,  except  on  such  an  occasion  as  this. 

Following  the  Chinese  ladies  comes  an  Eno-lishman 
returning  from  the  Indies,  a  broad,  burly  fellow,  with 
dogged  resolution,  self-complacency,  and  a  stout,  un- 
conquerable determination  to  grumble  at  everything 
he  meets  in  "this  blarsted  country,  you  know,"  traced 
upon  every  lineament.  His  feet  are  encased  in  clumsy 
thick-soled  gaiters,  his  nether  limbs  in  gray,  very 
scant  cassimere  pantaloons,  which  hang  limp  as  with- 
ered cabbage  leaves  round  his  ankles  ;  a  coat,  broader 
than  it  is  long,  covers  his  shoulders,  and  reaches  down 
just  below  his  waist,  and  on  his  head  is  a  hideous 
Monitor-shaped  hat,  as  large  as  the  shell  of  a  green 
turtle,  and  as  unmanageable  and  badly  out  of  place 


14 


FROM   THE    ORIENT  DIRECT. 


in  the  San  Francisco  summer  trade-winds  as  a  balloon 
in  a  western  tornado.  Surely  we  have  seen  some- 
where the  counterpart  of  this  figure  also  ;  yes,  it  was 
years  ago,  when  we  were  laid  up  with  a  broken  leg, 
and  the  fever  of  our  waking  hours  was  followed  by 
the  nightmare  in  our  troubled  sleep. 

The  custom-house  officers  have  done  their  work 
here  quickly,  and  perhaps  effectually,  and  now  all  is 
ready  at  the  forward  gangway.  A  living  stream  of 
the  blue-coated  men  of  Asia,  bearing-  long  bamboo 
poles  across  their  shoulders,  from  which  depend  pack- 
ages of  bedding,  matting,  clothing,  and  things  of 
which  we  know  neither  the  names  nor  the  uses,  pours 
down  the  plank  the  moment  that  the  word  is  given, 
"  All  ready ! "  They  appear  to  be  of  an  average  age 
of  twenty-five  years — very  few  being  under  fifteen, 
and  none  apparently  over  forty  years — and  though 
somewhat  less  in  stature  than  Caucasians,  healthy, 
active,  and  able-bodied  to  a  man.  As  they  come 
down  upon  the  wharf,  they  separate  into  messes  or 
gangs  of  ten,  twenty,  or  thirty  each,  and,  being  rec- 
ognized through  some  (to  us)  incomprehensible  free- 
masonry system  of  signs  by  the  agents  of  the  "Six 
Companies"  as  they  come,  are  assigned  places  on  the 
long,  broad-shedded  wharf  which  has  been  cleared 
especially  for  their  accommodation  and  the  conveni- 
ence of  the  customs  officers.  Each  man  carries  on  his 
shoulders,  or  in  his  hands,  his  entire  earthly  posses- 
sions, and  few  are  overloaded.  There  are  no  mer- 
chants or  business  men  among  them,  all  being  of  the 
coolie   or  laboring  class.     They  are  all   dressed   in 


PANDEMONIUM.  *  r  r 

coarse  but  clean  and  new  blue  cotton  blouses  and 
loose  baggy  breeches,  blue  cotton-cloth  stockings 
which  reach  to  the  knee,  and  slippers  or  shoes  with 
heavy  wooden  soles;  these  last  they  will  discard  for 
American  boots  when  they  go  up  country  to  work  in 
the  dust  and  mud ;  and  most  of  them  carry  one  or 
two  broad-brimmed  hats  of  split  bamboo,  and  huge 
palm-leaf  fans,  to  shield  them  from  the  burning  sun 
in  the  mountains  or  valleys  of  California,  or  the  fertile 
fields  of  the  south,  towards  which  many  of  them  will 
eventually  direct  their  steps.  There  is  a  babel  of  un- 
couth cries  and  harsh  discordant  yells,  accompanied 
by  whimsically  energetic  gestures  and  convulsive 
facial  distortions,  as  the  members  of  the  different 
eansrs  recosfnize  each  other  in  the  crowd,  and  search 
out  the  places  assigned  them.  The  luggage  is  de- 
posited on  the  wharf,  and  each  group  squat  on  the 
planking,  or  stand  silently  beside  their  little  property, 
waiting  in  patience  and  perfectly  soldier-like  order  the 
arrival  of  the  officers  who  are  to  search  them  for 
smuggled  goods.  "Here,  this  way!"  "Here,  here 
on  this  side!"  "There,  over  there  on  that  side!" 
shout  the  policemen,  as  they  swing  their  clubs  about 
and  frantically  endeavor  to  direct  the  tide,  often  really 
creating  disorder  among  these  most  orderly  and  me- 
thodical people,  who  would  get  things  straightened 
twice  as  quickly  without  such  assistance.  For  two 
mortal  hours  the  blue  stream  pours  down  from  the 
steamer  upon  the  wharf;  a  regiment  has  landed  al- 
ready, and  still  they  come.  The  wharf  is  covered  with 
them  so  densely  that  the  passage-way  for  carriages 


o  !  5  £/?CM/  77/^   ORIENT  DIRECT. 

through  the  centre  can  with  difficulty  be  kept  open, 
and  yet  the  stream  is  not  broken  for  a  single  moment. 
You  wonder  where  such  a  swarm  of  human  beings 
found  stowage  room — the  bulk  seems  greater  than 
that  of  the  steamer — and  wonder  still  more  when 
told  that  the  vessel  with  all  these  on  board  had  still 
room  for  a  cargo  of  thousands  of  tons  ;  her  freight- 
capacity  being  some  six  thousand  tons,  and  her  cus- 
tom house  registry  measurement  between  four  and 
five  thousand.  This  steamer  actually  brought  one 
thousand  two  hundred  and  seventy-two  Chinamen ; 
last  week  one  thousand  two  hundred  came  by  sailing 
vessels,  and  behind  them  are  yet  four  hundred  mill- 
ions of  the  most  patient,  ready,  apt,  and  industrious 
toilers  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

The  writer  shares  none  of  the  prejudice  against 
this  people  which  is  manifested  so  strongly  by  the 
lower  order  of  the  European-born  residents  of  Cali- 
fornia, and  leads  to  so  many  disgraceful  acts  of  vio- 
lence and  outrage ;  but  such  a  sight  as  this  awakens 
curious  thoughts,  and  suggests  doubts  of  the  future 
in  the  mind  of  every  one  who  has  made  political 
economy  and  free  institutions  a  study  to  any  extent. 
The  Chinese-labor  question  is  destined  within  the 
next  ten  years — five  years,  perhaps — to  become  what 
the  slavery  question  was  a  few  years  since,  to  break 
down,  revolutionize,  and  reorganize  parties,  com- 
pletely change  the  industrial  system  of  many  of  our 
States  and  Territories,  and  modify  the  destiny  of  our 
country  for  generations  to  come.  Educated,  think- 
ing men   do  not,  as  a  rule,  fear  the  result,  nor  see  in 


OPIUM  SMUGGLING.  „  .  - 

this  vast  semi-civilized  immigration  any  danger  to 
republican  institutions ;  nevertheless,  it  is  a  move- 
ment fraught  with  mighty  consequences  for  good  or 
ill,  and  the  question  demands  and  must  receive  a 
most  careful  consideration  in  all  its  bearings.  Com- 
merce,  religion,  politics,  capital  and  labor,  education, 
our  whole  social  fabric,  must  be  affected  more  or  less. 
Occident  and  Orient  stand  face  to  face  at  last,  and 
the  meeting  must  signalize  a  notable  era  in  the  his- 
tory of  mankind. 

The  customs  ager.ts  search  the  person  of  every 
Chinaman  as  he  lands,  and  <ro  through  the  lugo-aee 
of  every  group  or  mess  as  thoroughly  as  possible,  in 
quest  of  opium,  the  one  blighting  curse  of  China,  for 
which  she  may  thank  Christian  England,  and  for 
which  her  children  will  run  any  risk  and  bear  any 
privation.  The  deadly  drug  is  so  costly  in  propor- 
tion to  its  bulk,  that,  next  to  gold  and  precious  stones, 
it  offers  the  greatest  inducement  for  smuofgrlino-  •  and 
on  the  arrival  of  every  steamer  and  sailing  vessel 
from  China,  large  seizures  are  made  by  the  officers. 
On  this  occasion  one  officer  detected  and  confiscated 
forty  boxes  of  opium,  each  worth  eight  or  ten  dollars 
in  coin,  which  had  been  concealed  in  the  false  bottom 
of  a  box  containing  merchandise  of  comparatively 
small  value.  To  do  them  justice,  we  should  say  that 
one  of  the  Chinese  companies'  agents  directed  the 
officer's  attention  to  the  box,  and  so  caused  him  to 
make  the  discovery.  Another  officer  discovered  a 
suspicious  protuberance  on  the  person  of  a  China- 
man, and  had  just  reached  out  his  hand  to  examine 


~  j  3  FROM  THE   ORIENT  DIRECT. 

it,  when  the  frigfhtened  Celestial  flunof  from  him  into 
the  bay  half  a  dozen  boxes  of  the  poison.  Bladders 
of  it,  flattened  out  like  pancakes,  were  found  con- 
cealed in  the  linings  of  blankets  or  bed-quilts,  and 
the  stuffed  under-garments  worn  by  some  of  the  men. 
In  all,  several  thousand  dollars'  worth  thus  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  officers,  and  a  moiety  of  its  value 
will  go  into  the  treasury  of  Uncle  Sam,  if  the  costs 
cannot  be  made  large  enough  to  swallow  up  all  his 
share. 

Fifteen  or  twenty  Chinese  girls — the  poor  raft  and 
boat  born  women  of  Canton,  trained,  from  childhood, 
to  lewdness,  and  as  utterly  ignorant  of  the  ways  of 
virtue  or  any  sense  of  shame  or  moral  responsibility 
as  so  many  blocks  of  wood — were  landed  also  ;  some 
steamers  bring  them  by  hundreds,  in  spite  of  the  ef- 
forts of  the  "Six  Companies  "  to  discourage  the  traffic. 
These  women  signed  contracts,  in  China,  to  serve 
their  masters  a  given  number  of  years  for  their  pass- 
age-money, board  and  clothing,  and,  despite  our 
laws,  will  submit  to  live  and  die  in  a  slavery  more 
horrible  than  any  other  that  ever  existed  on  earth ; 
all  efforts  of  our  authorities  to  break  it  up  having 
proved  utterly  unavailing.  As  they  land,  they  are 
searched  in  no  delicate  manner  by  the  officers,  and 
then  received  by  their  purchasers,  and  delivered  into 
the  charge  of  the  sallow  old  hags  in  black  costume, 
with  bunches  of  keys  in  the  girdles  at  their  waists,  who 
are  called  "old  mothers,"  and  who  will  hold  them  in 
horrible  bondage  and  collect  the  waees  of  their  sin — 
if  they  who  have  no  moral  responsibility  can  be  said 


"SOILED  DOVES."  -jjq 

to  sin — for  the  remainder  of  their  days.     The  girls 
are   dressed  in  silk   or   cotton  tunics  and  trousers, 
similar  in  shape  and  color  to  those  worn  by  the  mar- 
ried ladies,  but  far  less  costly,  are  painted  gaudily  on 
cheeks  and  lips,  and  wear  on  their  heads  the  checked 
cotton  handkerchiefs  which  are  the  badge  of  prostitu- 
tion.    They  are  jeered  and  "hi-hied"  by   the  crowd 
of  common  Chinamen  waiting  outside  the  gates,  as 
they  pass  out  to  enter  the  open  express  wagons  wait- 
ing to  receive  them  and  carry  them  away  to  the  dens 
in  Murderers'  Alley  and  along  the   Barbary  Coast. 
As  fast  as  the  groups  of  coolies  have  been  succes- 
sively searched,  they  are  turned  out  of  the  gates,  and 
hurried  away  towards  the  Chinese  quarter  of  the  city 
by  the  agents  of  the  "Six  Companies."     Some  go  in 
wao-ons,  more  on  foot;  and  the  streets  leading  up 
that  way  are  lined  with   them,   running  in  "Indian 
file,"  and  carrying  their  luggage  suspended  from  the 
ends  of  the  bamboo  poles  slung  across  their  should- 
ers.    By  nightfall  the  throng  has  dispersed,  the  work 
of  the  officers  is  over,  and  the  vast  wharf  is  cleared 
for  the  delivery  of  the  immense  cargo  in  the  hold  of 
the  steamer. 

This  cargo  is  made  up  of  articles  in  a  great  measure 
strange  to  the  people  of  the  Atlantic  States ;  and  for 
their  benefit  the  list  is  copied  out  in  full  from  the 
manifest,  as  follows : 

For  San  Francisco  :  90  packages  cassia ;  940  pack- 
ages coffee,  from  Java  and  Manila;  192  packages 
fire- crackers ,  30  packages  dried  fish,  cuttle-fish, 
shark's  fins,  etc.;  400  packages  hemp;   1 16  packages 


,20  FROM  THE   ORIENT  DIRECT. 

miscellaneous  merchandise,  lacquered  goods,  porce- 
lain-ware, and  things  for  which  we  have  no  special 
names  ;  5  3  packages  medicines ;  1 8  packages  opium ; 
1 6  packages  plants;  20  packages  potatoes;  25  pack- 
ages rattans;  2,755  packages  rice;  1,238  packages 
sundries — chow-chow,  preserved  fruits,  salted  melon- 
seeds,  dried  ducks,  pickled  duck's  eggs,  cabbage 
sprouts  in  brine,  candied  citron,  dates,  dwarf  oranges, 
ginger,  smoked  oysters,  and  a  hundred  other  Chinese 
edibles  and  table  luxuries;  824  packages  sugar;  20 
packages  silks ;  203  packages  sago  and  tapioca ; 
5,463  packages  tea;   27  packages  tin. 

For  New  York  ;  2  packages  merchandise  ;  2 1  pack- 
ages sundries;  150  packages  silks;  465  packages 
teas  ;    1 44  packages  rhubarb  ;  9  packages  hardware. 

For  Panama,  1  package  opium ;  1  package  sun- 
dries ;    115  packages  tea. 

It  is  not  the  tea  season,  and  this  cargo  is  conse- 
quently a  small  one  comparatively — nothing,  in  fact, 
to  what  is  sometimes  landed  from  a  China  steamer ; 
though,  as  will  be  seen  from  the  foregoing  manifest, 
it  comprises  no  less  than  13,354  packages  of  mer- 
chandise, many  of  them  of  large  size — a  small  mount- 
ain in  the  a^g rebate. 

Having  enjoyed  to  the  utmost  the  pleasure  of  a 
new  sensation,  we  leave  the  wharf,  meditating  on  the 
strange  scene  which  we  have  beheld,  and  wondering 
what  is  to  be  the  end  of  all  this,  and  wend  our  way 
back  to  Montgomery  street.  Sitting  by  the  fruit- 
laden  table  in  our  own  room  in  the  evening,  and 
breathing  the  air  charged  with  the  odors  of  the  fairest 


WAS  IT  A  DREAM?  ~n  j 

flowers  that  bloom,  a  doubt  arises  in  our  mind,  and 
we  begin  to  inquire  if  there  was  in  sober  truth  any 
such  scene  as  we  fancy  we  have  been  witnessing. 
Was  that  little  oval-faced  woman,  clad  in  blue,  pur- 
ple, crimson  and  gold,  shrinking  in  speechless  fear 
from  the  strange  throng  around  her,  a  being  of  flesh 
and  blood  after  all,  or  a  creature  of  the  imagination? 
Did  we  actually  see  her  come  out  of  the  great  blac^c 
steamer's  cabin  and  stand  there  hesitating  in  the 
gangway,  or  have  we  been  gazing  at  some  brilliantly- 
tinted  picture  from  the  land  where  Marco  Polo  jour- 
neyed centuries  ago,  until  one  of  the  figures  took  on 
itself  the  semblance  of  life  and  action,  and  walked 
forth  from  its  frame  ?  Was  it  not  in  fact  all  a  dream  ? 
A  dream,  we  would  almost  swear !  And  yet  a  dream 
it  could  not  have  been,  we  find  when  we  come  to 
reflect  upon  it.  There  is  the  card  of  admission  to  the 
wharf,  still  lying  on  the  table  before  us ;  that  is  tangi- 
ble and  real  at  least.  The  sunlight  which  the  waters 
of  the  bay  of  San  Francisco  glistened  under,  and 
which  flooded  with  its  golden  glory  the  mountains  of 
Contra  Costa  and  Alameda,  looked  and  felt  real. 
We  can  still  hear  the  roar  of  many  voices  shouting 
in  an  unknown  tongue,  and  see  the  stream  of  men  in 
blue  blouses,  with  shaven  foreheads,  and  with  long 
braided  queues  of  glossy  black  hair  and  silk  hanging 
down  their  backs.  The  strange  odor  of  Asiatic  to- 
bacco, spices,  opium — 

"  Mandragora, 
And  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world," 

which  pervaded  ship  and  cargo,   still   clings  to  our 


-22  IROM  THE   ORIENT  DIRECT. 

clothing,  and  finds  its  way  into  our  nostrils.  It  was 
real,  wholly  real,  after  all!  We  have  indeed  stood 
on  the  farther  shore  of  the  New  World,  and  seen  the 
human  tides  which  have  surged  round  the  globe 
from  opposite  directions  meet  and  commingle,  and 
have  beheld  the  yellow  flag,  emblazoned  with  the 
red-draeon,  emblem  of  the  "  Lord  of  the  whole  Earth 
and  Brother  of  the  Sun  and  Moon" — master  of  the 
oldest  nation  which  the  sun  shines  upon — and  the 
starry  emblem  of  a  sovereign  people,  "  By  the  Grace 
of  God  Free  and  Independent,"  floating  side  by  side. 
It  was  a  siofht  worth  living  longr  and  coming-  far  to 
look  upon — a  scene  to  wonder  at,  to  ponder  over  and 
reflect  upon — to  gaze  upon  once  and  remember 
through  all  the  coming  years  of  life — a  scene  such  as 
our  fathers  never  beheld  nor  dreamed  of,  and  of  which 
our  children's  children  only  may  know  the  full  import 
and  meaning. 

The  rainy  season  is  over  at  last,  and  we  are  thank- 
ful for  it.  We  are  weary  of  the  city,  its  vices,  its 
crimes  and  its  follies,  already.  All  cities  are  much 
alike  after  all,  varying  only  in  minor  details,  but  the 
mountains;  God  be  praised  for  them.  There  we  shall 
find  change  and  beauty,  sunshine,  pure  air,  freedom, 
and  rest. 

As  the  steamer  approaches  the  Golden  Gate,  one 
of  the  most  striking  features  of  the  glorious  landscape 
which  unfolds  itself  before  the  eyes  of  the  traveler,  is 
the  bold  crest  of  Mount  Diablo  standing  out  clear 
and  sharp  against  the  blue  sky,  over  beyond  the  Con- 
tra Costa  hills  to   the  eastward  of  the   Bay  of  San 


MOUNT  DIABLO. 

o-o 

Francisco.  As  he  walks  the  streets  of  the  Golden 
City  he  sees  it  still  before  him,  and  as  he  ascends  the 
Sacramento  or  San  Joaquin,  it  confronts  at  every  turn 
and  bend  of  the  winding  stream,  every  change  in  his 
position  revealing  some  new  feature  in  the  scene. 

When  he  ascends  the  Sierra  Nevada,  on  his  way  to 
the  Yosemite,  or  climbs  farther  up  to  the  line  of  eter- 
nal snow,  and  looks  back  toward  the  Pacific,  the 
dark  mountain  looms  up  grander  and  more  beautiful 
than  ever,  seeming  to  have  increased  in  size  while  he 
has  been  climbing  heavenward,  and  looming  up  appar- 
ently thousands  of  feet  higher  in  the  blue,  hazy  at- 
mosphere than  when  he  stood  at  its  base  in  the  valley 
miles  and  miles  below.  Located  near  the  junction  of 
the  two  great  rivers  which  drain  the  vast  interior 
basin  of  California  between  the  Sierra  Nevada  and 
the  Coast  Range,  it  rises  abruptly  from  the  plain  to 
a  height  of  nearly  4,000  feet ;  and  standing  isolated 
and  solitary,  with  no  rivals  to  dwarf  it  by  comparison 
or  detract  from  the  effect  of  the  picture — it  is  pre- 
eminently the  great  central  feature  of  the  landscape, 
travel  which  way  you  may.  Placed  by  the  side  of 
Mount  Shasta,  or  the  high  peaks  of  the  Sierra,  Mount 
Diablo  would  sink  into  insignificance,  but  standing 
alone  in  solitary  grandeur,  he  is  monarch  of  the  land. 
No  other  mountain  peak  in  America,  perhaps  in  the 
world,  commands  a  view  of  such  wide  extent  of  coun- 
try and  so  wonderful  and  varied  scenery ;  and  he 
who  has  not  ascended  to  its  summit,  certainly  has 
not  seen  and  can  form  no  clear  idea  of  California. 

Old  Californians  of  Spanish-American  origin  will 


„24  FROM  THE   ORIENT  DIRECT. 

tell  you,  with  an  earnestness  which  impresses  you 
with  the  sincerity  of  their  belief  in  what  they  say, 
that  three  fourths  of  a  century  ago  a  vaguer  o,  chasing 
a  stray  band  of  cattle,  ascended  the  mountain  nearly 
to  the  summit,  when  he  came  suddenly  upon  a  cavern 
from  which  issued  great  sheets  of  flame  and  clouds  of 
sulphurous  smoke,  and  he  felt  at  once  that  he  stood 
at  the  door  of  the  abode  of  the  Enemy  of  Mankind. 
Crossing  himself  with  trembling  hand,  he  devoutly 
repeated  a  prayer  to  Mary  Mother,  and  turning  his 
horse's  head,  rode  regardless  of  risk  to  life  and  limb, 
looking  not  backward  until  he  stood  among  his  friends 
in  the  valley  below,  and  told  them  of  the  wonder  he 
had  seen.  From  that  time  the  mountain  bore  the 
name  of  him  who  was  supposed  to  make  his  abode 
in  its  depths,  and  no  man's  foot  intruded  among  its 
lonely  defiles  and  savage  canons  until  the  Los  Ameri- 
canos, who  feared  neither  God,  man,  nor  devil,  came 
and  possessed  the  land,  carried  their  surveying  instru- 
ments to  its  summit,  and  there  set  up  a  rude  monu- 
ment of  stone,  which  serves  as  a  base  for  the  surveys 
throughout  all  Alta  California.  The  fire  which  the 
•vaguer o  beheld,  or  thought  he  beheld,  has  burned  out 
long  years  ago,  if  it  ever  existed ;  the  cavern,  if  ever 
there  was  a  cavern,  has  been  closed  to  human  eyes, 
and  the  superstitious  dread  with  which  the  mountain 
was  regarded  has  passed  away  with  the  simple  people 
we  have  dispossessed,  and  the  order  of  things  which 
we  have  overturned.  Thus  much  for  the  mountain 
as  we  see  it  at  a  distance,  and  the  name  it  bears. 
It  was  a  pleasant  afternoon  early  in    the   month 


A   PARTY  OF  FOUR.  -2  r 

of  May,  1866,  when  a  party  of  four,  including  the 
writer,  went  on  board  the  Oakland  ferry  steamer 
"Washoe,"  at  San  Francisco,  bound  for  Mount  Diablo. 
The  swift  steamer  in  half  an  hour  landed  us  at  the 
Oakland  railroad  wharf,  and  we  started  off  for  the  ride 
across  the  country.  Two  of  the  party,  Dr.  James 
Murphy  and  Dr.  James  D.  Whitney,  Jr.,  eminent 
men  in  their  profession  in  San  Francisco,  rode  in 
a  light  carriage,  with  a  span  of  fast-trotting  horses ; 
while  R.  H.  Lloyd,  Esq.,  a  prominent  young  lawyer, 
and  myself  were  on  horseback.  Lloyd  rode  a  beau- 
tiful, spirited,  and  very  fleet-footed  California  horse, 
of  a  pale  gold  color,  and  with  a  mane  and  tail  like 
spun  silver  —  "Silvertail"  they' called  him;  while  I 
was  mounted  on  my  pet,  "Juanita,"  a  bright  bay 
California  mare,  with  great  brown  eyes,  widely  dis- 
tended nostrils  and  clean  limbs,  which  could  carry  her 
over  the  ground  as  fast  as  any  mortal  man  would 
care  to  ride. 

Poor  Juanita !  How  bitterly  do  I  remember  spring- 
ing to  my  feet,  after  a  troubled  sleep,  one  glorious 
moonlight  night  a  year  later,  in  the  Great  Colorado 
Valley,  and  at  a  glance  discovering  that  she  had  been 
stolen  from  beside  me  as  I  slept !  I  ran  out  into  the 
open  ground  and  called  aloud,  "Juanita!  Juanita!" 
but  there  came  no  answer.  Half  frantic,  I  searched 
all  around  for  tracks,  and  soon  found  the  prints  of  her 
dainty  hoofs  in  the  soft  soil.  Alas !  a  long-pointed 
moccassin  track  was  beside  them,  and  a  little  farther 
on  I  discovered  where  the  accursed  Chimahuevis  thief 
had  mounted,  her  and  ridden  off  at  a  gallop  across  the 


^25  FROM  THE   ORIENT  DIRECT. 

sandy  desert  toward  the  desolate  Chimahuevis  mount- 
ains ;  and  I  knew  that  pursuit  was  useless,  for  long  ere 
I  could  have  reached  the  rancheria  of  the  accursed 
tribe,  their  long  sharp  knives  had  slashed  her  silky 
throat,  and  her  plump,  round  form  had  furnished  food 
for  the  savages,  to  whom  I  also  then  owed  a  debt  of 
hatred  and  revenge.  I  paid  it  well  in  after  days  ; 
but  let  us  turn  back  towards  Mount  Diablo. 

From  the  landing  at  Oakland  to  Clayton,  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  is  thirty  miles,  up  hill  and  down. 
We  ride  at  a  gallop  through  the  quiet  streets  of  Oak- 
land, the  most  beautiful  and  flourishing  of  the  sub- 
urban towns  around  San  Francisco  Bay ;  passing 
elegant  residences  standing  embowered  amona-  the 
great  spreading  live  oaks,  which  gave  the  place  its 
name;  deep  green  acacias,  which  in  this  climate 
never  shed  their  feathery  leaves ;  rose  trees,  loaded 
down  with  flowers  of  every  hue,  the  fragrance  of 
which  pervades  the  dreamy,  soft,  voluptuous,  lan- 
guid air ;  fuschias,  hanging  like  banners  of  living  flame 
from  trellis- work,  arbor  and  broad  veranda;  and,  in 
short,  all  the  flowers  which,  gathered  from  every 
land  beneath  the  sun,  have  become  acclimated  here ; 
passing  churches,  school-houses,  and  college-buildings, 
through  a  long,  wide  lane,  leading  between  thrifty 
orchards  filled  with  ripening  cherries,  apricots,  plums, 
nectarines,  peaches,  apples,  pears,  and  wide  acres  cov- 
ered with  richly-bearing  strawberry,  blackberry  and 
raspberry  plants,  where  the  Chinese  laborers  are  at 
work  in  their  broad  bamboo  hats  and  blue  blouses, 
in    rows   like    Louisianian   slaves   in   the  "good  old 


ROADSIDE   SCENERY.  ~2~ 

time,"  now  gone  forever,  gathering  the  luscious  fruit 
for  the  San  Francisco  market,  and  emerge  at  last  on 
the  open  farming  country  which  stretches  up  to  the 
high  hills  of  Alameda,  over  which  our  road  leads.  At 
the  foot  of  the  hills  we  halt  a  moment,  to  rest  and 
water  man  and  beast,  then  strike  into  a  winding 
caiion,  which  leads  us  up  by  an  easy  grade  toward 
the  summit  of  the  hills.  A  little  stream  of  pure, 
bright  water  comes  down  the  canon,  and,  as  we  splash 
through  it  from  time  to  time,  we  catch  glimpses  of 
hares  and  rabbits  scudding  away  into  the  chapparal, 
and  the  beautiful  tufted  quail  of  California  rise  in  pairs 
and  whirr  away  to  the  leafy  coverts  where  their  nests 
are  concealed.  The  sides  of  the  canon  are  densely 
covered  with  the  vine- like  shrub  known  as  the  "poi- 
son-oak" which  affects  some  people  so  terribly,  even 
the  wind  blowing  over  it  poisoning  them  so  as  to 
produce  frightful  swellings  and  eruptions  of  the  face 
and  glands,  blindness,  deafness,  and  sometimes  even 
death  itself.  This  plant  has  no  effect  whatever  on 
any  animal,  nor  on  many  men.  The  writer  has  chewed 
its  fresh  leaves,  and  handled  it  with  perfect  impunity. 
There  are  dog-roses  and  many  wild  flowers  of  brilliant 
hue,  of  which  we  do  not  know  the  names.  The  sum- 
mit reached  at  last,  we  stop  at  a  roadside  inn  to  rest 
and  "recruit" — gentle  reader,  if  you  ever  travel  in 
California  you  will  learn  what  that  means — and  look 
back  for  a  few  minutes  at  the  glorious  panorama  of 
the  Bay  of  San  Francisco  and  its  surroundings :  the 
white-winged  ships  coming  and  going  from  and  to 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth — the  steamers  thread- 


•528  FROM  THE   ORIENT  DIRECT. 

ing  the  blue  waters,  and  the  thousand  evidences  of  life 
and  progress  developed  in  a  few  short  years  by  the 
indomitable  energy  of  our  people  on  this  outer  edge 
of  the  continent — this  western  outpost  of  the  Great 
Republic.  On  again,  down  a  broad,  graded  road, 
which  is  cut  along  the  side  of  a  canon,  leading  east- 
ward among  beautifully-rounded  hills,  covered  with  a 
dense  growth  of  wild  oats  to  their  very  summits, 
across  a  narrow  valley,  and  up  over  the  broken  hill- 
range  of  Las  Trampas,  and  down  once  more  into 
a  broad,  beautiful  valley,  filled  with  farm-houses  and 
wide  fields  of  ripening  grain,  which  seem  wonderfully 
like  those  of  the  prairie  country  of  Illinois.  We  pass 
through  two  or  three  country  villages,  each  consisting 
of  a  store  or  two,  post-office  and  express-office  com- 
bined, a  hotel,  billiard-saloon,  and  two  or  three  small 
rum-mills,  and  stop  to  refresh  at  each. 

The  sun  is  sinking  behind  the  Western  hills  when 
we  pass  up  by  a  short  cut  through  a  winding  canon 
filled  with  wild  mustard  plants,  as  high  as  our  horses' 
heads,  through  which  we  push  our  animals  with  diffi- 
culty, and  emerge  on  a  gravelly,  unfenced  and  uncul- 
tivated plain,  which  stretches  away  to  the  foot  of 
Mount  Diablo,  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  Clayton,  where 
we  propose  to  pass  the  night.  The  company  all 
together,  we  propose  a  taste  of  fragrant  pisco  (Peru- 
vian white  brandy)  all  round,  sundry  bottles  of  that 
and  other  refreshments  having  been  stowed  away  un- 
der the  seat  of  the  carriage  in  which  the  doctors  are 
riding.  Something  knocks  Dr.  Murphy's  hat  off,  and 
I,  Greaser  style,  swing  down  from  my  saddle,  catch 


A   QUICK  RIDE.  „2 

it  from  the  ground,  and  slip  it  over  my  own.  A  laugh 
at  his  expense,  and  he  offers  me  a  chance  at  the  bottle 
of  pisco  for  the  hat.  I  take  the  bottle  and  jump 
back  just  in  time  to  avoid  a  swinging  cut  from 
his  horsewhip,  and  in  an  instant  we  are  off  on  a  race 
across  the  plain.  The  doctor  binds  his  head  with  a 
handkerchief,  giving  himself  the  air  of  a  Bedouin  of  the 
desert,  and  lashes  his  horses  into  a  "dead  run"  to  over- 
take me,  but  in  vain,  and  he  coaxes  and  threatens  by 
turns,  as  we  allow  him  to  get  almost  alongside  of 
us  to  tantalize  him,  and  then  dash  off  again  at  a 
gallop.  Silvertail  and  Juanita  are  mad  for  another 
brush,  and  Lloyd  and  myself  leave  the  doctors  far 
behind,  and  "go  in"  with  a  will  to  see  who  shall  reach 
Clayton  first.  Now  Silvertail  makes  a  sudden  dash 
and  passes  ahead,  sending  the  gravel  flying  back  from 
his  hoofs  in  such  volleys  that  I  must  perforce  shield 
my  eyes  and  get  to  one  side  as  soon  as  possible ; 
then  Juanita,  with  a  snort,  closes  into  the  work  and 
shoots  ahead,  compelling  him  to  yield  the  road  in 
turn.  Just  as  the  day  is  closing  and  the  soft  twilight 
falls,  we  dash  neck  and  neck  into  Clayton,  rein  up 
our  panting  steeds  before  the  "Ironclad  Hotel,"  and 
dismount,  having  ridden  over  the  mountains  and 
across  two  hill-ranges,  thirty  good  miles,  in  just  three 
hours  and  forty-five  minutes,  stoppages  included. 

Round,  red,  and  full  the  moon  rises  over  the  east- 
ern hills  and  floods  the  landscape  with  golden  glory, 
bringing  out  the  peaks  of  the  mountain,  and  every 
rock,  hill,  and  glen  in  masses  of  sharply  contrasted 
light   and  shadow,   very   grand  to  behold.     Supper 


~„n  FROM  THE   ORIENT  DIRECT. 

over,  we  sit,  chat,  and  smoke  our  cigarritos  around 
the  doorway  until  bedtime ;  then  give  orders  for  a 
guide,  an  early  breakfast  and  a  lunch  to  take  with  us 
up  the  mountain,  and  retire  to  rest. 

Daybreak  sees  us  up  and  making  ready  for  the  as- 
cent of  the  mountain  which  looms  up  right  before  us 
with  its  walls  of  rugged  rock,  which  look  altogether 
impassable.  A  good  breakfast  disposed  of  and  we 
are  all  in  the  saddle  —  no  carriage  can  ascend  the 
mountain — and  away  up  a  little  valley,  dotted  with 
patches  of  vineyards  and  young  orchards,  into  a  deep, 
dark  canon  which  leads  right  into  the  depths  of  the 
mountain.  Larks  and  robins  are  singing  in  the  black 
beech  and  water- maple  trees  by  the  roadside,  as  we 
gallop  along ;  and,  as  we  ascend  the  defile,  we  look 
down  upon  the  bright  waters  of  a  purling  brook  com- 
ing out  of  the  mountain,  in  which  we  see  the  spotted 
mountain  trout  of  California  playing  as  we  used  to  see 
them  in  the  brooks  of  New  England  so  long  ago  that 
we  do  not  care — I  might  say  do  not  dare — to  count  the 
years  between.  Soon  the  road  leaves  the  bed  of  the 
stream,  and  becomes  a  narrow  path,  cut  with  infinite 
labor  along  the  side  of  a  precipice,  over  which  you 
can  look  as  you  ride  along,  and  drop  a  stone  down 
hundreds  of  feet  before  it  strikes  the  rocks,  and  goes 
bounding  and  awakening  echoes  down  to  the  bottom 
of  the  canon.  There  is  no  room  for  two  horses  to 
go  abreast,  and  we  wind  along  in  Indian  file  up,  up, 
up,  toward  the  blue  sky  above  us.  The  bridle-path 
becomes  at  last  a  mere  trail — dim  and  indistinct ;  but 
we  press   on,  passing  the  first  peak,  and  arrive  at  a 


DEER  FLAT. 


331 


point  where  our  horses  must  be  recinched,  to  prevent 
the  saddles  slipping  over  their  tails  and  dumping  us 
over  the  precipice,  as  they  go  up  an  acclivity  steeper 
and  more  difficult  of  ascent  than  any  we  have  as  yet 
encountered.  This  matter  of  cinching  a  California 
mustang  is  no  trifling  feat  for  a  green  hand  to  essay. 
The  wide  band  of  woven  horsehair,  known  as  the 
cinch,  is  drawn  up  by  the  powerful  purchase  on  the 
latigo  strap  until  it  deeply  imbeds  itself  in  the  animal's 
belly,  causing  him  to  swell  himself  up  like  a  toad  to 
resist  the  pressure,  and  not  unfrequently — especially 
if  he  sees  that  you  are  a  stranger  at  the  business — to 
commence  a  rearing,  plunging,  kicking,  and  biting 
performance,  involving  danger  to  life  and  limb. 

We  soon  reached  Deer  Flat,  a  little  park-like  plat- 
eau, in  a  sheltered  nook  within  a  mile  of  the  top  of 
the  mountain,  and  stopped  for  a  breathing  spell.  A 
few  years  ago,  when  all  California  was  wild  with  excite- 
ment and  everybody  was  getting  rich — on  paper — 
from  wild-cat  mining  stocks,  every  hill  and  mountain 
around  San  Francisco  was  bored,  and  tunnelled,  and 
drifted  in  search  of  gold  and  silver  bearing  quartz. 
Claims  were  actually  staked  off  in  the  streets  of  San 
Francisco,  and  companies  formed  to  work  them,  on 
the  strength  of  a  few  wandering  bits  of  metalliferous 
rock  having  been  picked  up  here  and  there.  The 
prospectors  pushed  their  way  up  here  into  the  rocky 
defiles  of  Mount  Diablo,  and  finding  traces  of  gold, 
silver  and  copper,  organized  dozens  of  companies  to 
work  the  "leads."  For  months  the  deep  gorges  of 
the  mountain  echoed  the   sound  of  the  sledge,  the 


-j, 2  FROM  THE   ORIENT  DIRECT. 

pick  and  the  drill,  and  the  loud  reports  of  the  blasts 
let  off  to  disengage  the  rock  which  hid  from  the  eager 
eyes  of  the  miners  boundless  stores  of  imaginary 
wealth.  It  is  all  over  now  and  silent  as  the  grave, 
save  when  a  wandering  party  of  pleasure -seekers 
penetrates  here,  as  we  have  done,  or  the  hunter  climbs 
the  rocky  peaks  in  search  of  deer  or  a  stray  grizzly 
bear,  and  awakes  the  mountain  echoes  with  the  sharp 
crack  of  his  rifle.  Here,  at  Deer  Flat,  a  comfortable 
house  had  been  erected,  and  the  superintendent  of  a 
mine,  a  Mexican,  had  made  his  headquarters.  A 
vegetable-garden,  run  to  weeds  and  climbing  vines, 
a  held  of  volunteer  barley — into  which  we  turn  our 
panting  horses  without  a  question — and  a  trellised 
arbor,  covered  with  sweet  peas  and  climbing  plants  in 
full  bloom,  which  a  woman's  loving  hand  must  have 
planted  and  trained,  tell  of  the  industry  and  taste  of 
those  who  once  made  their  home  in  this  wild  mount- 
ain eyrie.  A  drink  of  cold  water  from  a  running 
spring,  with  the  chill  taken  off  it  by  an  admixture  of 
pisco,  is  heartily  enjoyed  after  the  hard  ride,  and  we 
are  soon  ready  for  another  climb.  Up  a  steep  hill- 
side, past  tall  pine  trees,  like  those  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  along  a  steep,  narrow  "  hog-back"  of  crum- 
bling, shelvy  stone,  running  through  a  waste  of  the 
bitter,  worthless  chemisal,  a  plant  which  grows  only 
on  land  too  barren  to  support  anything  else  ;  then  up 
another  sharper  and  more  stony  hill,  and  we  pass 
through  a  scrubby  thicket,  and  suddenly  emerge  on 
the  summit  of  the  mountain. 

We  stand  for  a  moment  in  silence,  looking  down 


A   GLORIOUS  LANDSCAPE.  „  .,  ., 

on  the  world  at  our  feet.  Words  utterly  fail  to  con- 
vey the  faintest  idea  of  the  grandeur  of  the  scene 
which  bursts  on  our  startled  vision.  I  have  ascended 
mountains  higher  than  this,  but  never  beheld  such  a 
scene  as  that  below  me,  as  I  stood  looking  down,  as 
upon  a  map,  upon  the  vast  country  spread  out  on 
every  side.  The  view  was  unbroken  from  the  mount- 
ains to  the  sea,  and  what  a  scene !  The  sun  was 
high  in  the  heavens  ;  it  was  nine  o'clock,  and  the 
whole  landscape  was  bathed  in  his  glory.  Turning 
naturally  eastward  at  first,  we  see  in  the  far  distance 
the  whole  vast  range  of  the  Sierra  Nevada ;  mount- 
ain piled  on  mountain,  stretching  to  the  limits  of  the 
vision  north  and  south,  with  summits  white  with 
snow,  glistening  in  the  rays  of  the  summer  sun,  be- 
neath which  the  dwellers  in  the  valleys  are  sweating 
at  their  toil.  Northward  the  black  buttes  of  Marys- 
ville,  far  away  in  Yuba  county,  bound  the  view. 
Southward  you  look  away  over  the  billowy  hills  and 
fresh  smiling  valleys  to  the  mountains  of  the  Coast 
Range,  old  Loma  Prieta,  a  hundred  miles  or  more 
away  in  Santa  Cruz,  being  the  last  object  distinguish- 
able. Westward  the  ranges  of  Las  Trampas  and 
Alameda,  and  over  them,  the  high  peak  of  Tamalpais 
to  the  northward  of  the  Golden  Gate.  Far  away  to 
the  northwest,  where  Napa,  Lake,  and  Sonoma  coun- 
ties meet,  is  dimly  discernible  the  summit  of  Mount 
St.  Helens.  A  white  mist  is  on  the  western  horizon, 
but,  even  as  we  gaze,  the  curtain  unrolls  and  lifts 
from  the  scene,  and  we  see  the  city  of  the  Pacific, 
proud  San  Francisco,  the  Golden  Gate,  and  the  blue 


nn,  FROM  THE   ORIEN1    DIRECT. 

ocean  beyond,  aye,  even  a  steamer  far  out  at  sea, 
heading  for  the  portal  of  the  golden  land.  The  bay 
of  San  Francisco  is  only  partly  visible,  but  we  see  on 
its  bosom  the  dark  form  of  Yerba  Buena  Island,  and 
the  steamers  Washoe  and  Alameda  plying  to  and 
from  Oakland  and  the  Encinal  de  Alameda,  crowded 

•  with  pleasure -seekers  going  over  the  bay  for  a  Sun- 
day's amusement,  the  shipping  lying  thickly  around 
the  wharves  upon  the  city  front.  The  rock  fortress 
of  Alcatraz,  bristling  with  heavy  guns,  rising  tier  on 
tier  from  the  water's  edge,  and  surmounted  with  bar- 
racks and  officers'  quarters,  painted  of  a  peach  bloom 

"  color,  can  be  readily  distinguished,  and  as  a  heavy 
bank  of  mist  drifts  in  and  covers  it  for  a  few  minutes, 
we  almost  fancy  that  our  ears  catch  the  deep  boom- 
ing of  the  fog  bell, 

' '  The  weary  warden  that  o'er  sea  and  marshes 
Monotonously  calls, 
The  challenge  to  the  foe  whose  stealthy  marches 
Invest  the  city's  walls." 

A  fog- bank,  white  as  driven  snow,  drifts  swiftly 
up  the  Marin  county  shore,  slides  over  Lime  Point, 
and  fills  the  defiles  of  Tamalpais,  whose  summit,  cut 
off  from  his  base,  apparently  rocks  and  pitches  in  the 
surging  billows  like  the  wreck  of  some  proud  ship, 
tossed  in  the  breakers  on  a  stormy  coast.  The  mist 
is  gone  again,  and  the  Presidio  of  San  Francisco,  with 
its  lone  lines  of  barracks,  and  Fort  Point,  with  its  red 
brick  fortress,  stand  out  so  plainly,  that  we  look  in 
momentary  expectation  of  seeing  the  glinting  of  the 
muskets  of  the  sentries  in  the  sunlight,  as  they  turn 
in  their  silent  round  and  elance  seaward  for  the  foe 


A    SCENE    OF  BEAUTY.  ~~c 

who  never  comes.  The  bay  of  San  Pablo  is  nearly- 
all  visible,  and  the  bay  of  Suisun,  with  its  surface 
dotted  with  sails,  lies  uncovered  before  us.  The  blue 
of  the  sky  overhead  mingles  with  the  blue  of  the  sea 
in  the  west,  all  the  middle  ground  is  emerald  green, 
and  white  and  cold  gleam  the  summits  of  the  Sierra 
along  the  whole  eastern  horizon.  Martinez,  Pacheco, 
Alamo,  San  Ramon,  Lafayette  and  Clayton  lie  at  our 
feet ;  it  seems  as  if  you  might  toss  a  stone  into  either 
of  them  from  where  we  stand ;  and,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  straits  of  Carquinez,  Benicia,  and  Vallejo, 
with  every  building  plain  and  distinct,  are  to  be  seen. 
Suisun,  Rio  Vista  and  Freeport,  farther  northward, 
are  plainly  visible,  and  we  see  Sacramento,  embow- 
ered in  shade  trees,  distinctly  in  the  northeast.  Nearer 
where  we  stand,  we  see  long  threads  of  yellow  water 
twisting  and  winding  among  tule  marshes  and  low 
plains.  It  seems  hardly  possible  that  one  of  these  is 
the  lordly  Sacramento,  whose  waters  are  thick  with 
the  earth  from  a  thousand  hills,  being  washed  down 
by  the  miners  in  their  search  for  gold,  and  on  whose 
bosom  is  borne  the  commerce  and  treasure  of  the 
State,  and  the  lands  beyond  the  Sierra.  Coming  in 
from  the  southwest  is  another  winding  stream  of 
somewhat  purer  water,  and  the  eye  follows  it  up 
through  vast,  treeless  plains  to  the  southward,  until 
the  limit  of  vision  is  reached,  and  it  glitters  in  the  sun- 
light on  the  edge  of  the  horizon  like  a  broken  bit  of 

o  o 

rainbow  on  a  cloud ;  this  is  the  San  Joaquin.  The 
dozen  lesser  rivers  emptying  into  one  or  the  other 
are  hardly  distinguishable   in  the  bayous  and  natural 


FROM  THE    ORIENT  DIRECT. 


canals  which  cut  up  the  tule  marshes  in  all  directions. 
Eternal  Winter  looks  down  from  the  snow-capped 
summits  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  on  Summer,  in  all  her 
riches,  in  the  valleys  below  us,  and  we,  looking  at 
both  by  turns,  have  but  to  cast  our  eyes  toward  San 
Francisco,  where  summer  heat  is  never  fully  felt,  and 
winter's  cold  never  comes,  to  see  eternal  Spring. 
Tropical  heat  is  felt,  and  tropical  fruits  flourish  in  the 
valleys  of  Sacramento  and  the  San  Joaquin,  and  up 
on  yonder  mountains,  near  the  limit  of  human  habita- 
tion, the  climate  and  productions  of  New  England 
may  be  found.  The  gold  placers  of  the  foothills,  the 
quartz  ranges  of  the  mountains,  the  wide  valleys  and 
rich  alluvial  bottom  lands,  resembling  those  of  the 
Delta  of  the  Mississippi,  along  the  Sacramento  and 
San  Joaquin,  the  vine-clad  hills  of  Napa  and  Sonoma, 
the  great  pine  forests  of  the  upper  mountains,  the 
boundless  pastures  of  Contra  Costa  and  Alameda,  all 
lie  before  us.  Without  Le  Sage's  demon's  gift,  we 
look  down  into  the  dooryards,  and  upon  the  roofs  of 
half  the  dwellers  in  all  the  goodly  land  of  California. 
Pacheco  Valley,  rich  with  the  broad  acres  of  ripening 
grain,  where  the  reapers  are  already  at  work ;  Moragua 
Valley,  green  as  an  emerald  lake,  where  the  hay- 
makers are  ;  Livermore,  San  Ramon,  Nashau,  Marsh, 
Walnut,  and  a  dozen  other  valleys,  are  around  us. 
There  is  grass  enough  standing  in  the  valleys  beneath 
us,  to  feed  countless  thousands  of  cattle,  but  since  the 
great  drouth  of  1863-4,  the  country  is  almost  stripped 
of  live  stock,  and  we  look  over  miles  on  miles  of  pas- 
ture, in  which  we  cannot  discern  a  single  animal.     To 


THE  BEST  VIEW  MISSED,  o^~ 

the  southwest,  half  way  down  the  mountain  side,  we 
see  a  lovely  little  lake,  which  seems  the  abode  of 
fairies.  No  human  habitation  is  within  miles  of  it, 
and  it  is  the  haunt  of  wild  game,  hare,  rabbits,  quail, 
doves,  even  grizzly  bears  it  is  said,  are  sometimes  to 
be  found  there.  As  we  look  down  upon  it,  we  see 
a  herd  of  brown  deer  wading  around  in  its  clear 
waters,  or  lying  at  ease  under  the  broad  spreading 
live  oaks  around  it.  We  could  sit  and  gaze  and  dream 
for  days,  if  we  had  the  time  to  spare,  and  even  then 
not  be  able  to  recount  the  half  of  the  glories  and  the 
beauties  of  the  wondrous  panorama  of  mountain, 
plain,  river,  ocean,  city,  village,  bay,  forest,  and  bound- 
less valley  spread  before  us. 

But  the  sun  is  already  climbing  high  overhead,  and 
approaching  the  meridian,  and  we  have  at  least  forty 
good  miles  ride  yet  before  nightfall;  so  we  hastily 
discuss  our  luncheon,  wondering  all  the  time,  as  we 
look  down  from  the  heights  to  which  we  have  climbed, 
at  the  stupidity  of  those  who  dwell  in  the  land  below 
us.  Of  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  people 
who  glance  up  at  the  peak  where  we  are  sitting,  every 
day  of  their  lives,  not  a  thousand  ever  stood  where 
we  are  standing,  and  beheld  what  we  behold.  And  yet 
people  leave  San  Francisco  by  every  steamer  to  travel 
over  Europe,  or  climb  the  pigmy  heights  of  Mount 
Washington  or  the  Catskills  in  search  of  the  grand 
and  beautiful  in  nature,  and  the  "Colfax  party"  crossed 
the  continent  in  search  of  wonders,  and  missed  the 
grandest  scene  of  all.  Well,  this  is  a  very  queerworld. 

Luncheon  finished,  we  make  a  punch  from  the  last 

22 


„,Q  FROM  THE   ORIENT  DIRECT. 

of  the  pisco,  and  on  the  principle  of  always  speaking 
well  of  the  person  whose  hospitality  you  are  enjoying, 
solemnly  drink  the  health  of  "  San  Diablo,"  fancying 
to  ourselves  the  wink  and  chuckle  in  which  the  old 
gentleman  indulged  when  he  heard  that  pious  prefix 
to  his  name  announced.  One  more  look  all  around 
the  horizon — over  at  the  ocean  to  the  westward — 
across  the  great  interior  valley  of  California  to  the 
great  Sierra  on  the  eastward,  where  delicate  coral 
hues  are  beginning  to  flush  the  snow-fields  glittering 
in  the  noonday  sun;  southward  and  northward  to 
where  the  earth  and  sky  joined  to  shut  off  the  vision 
— then  loosened  the  cinches  of  our  Spanish  saddles, 
and  rearranged  them,  to  prevent  their  sliding  forward 
over  the  horses'  heads  in  the  descent,  and  regretfully 
started  down  the  mountain.  We  had  gone  but  a  few 
rods,  when  somebody  gave  a  yell,  and  off  went  all  the 
horses  on  a  gallop  over  rocks  and  shelving  hillsides, 
where  to  stumble  was  to  insure  a  broken  neck,  and 
to  fall  was  a  joke  not  to  be  endured  twice  in  a  life- 
time. As  we  went  helter-skelter  down  "the  hog- 
back," I  heard  something  fall  with  a  dull  thud,  and 
looking  up,  discovered  Juanita  standing  over  me  wit*h 
the  saddle  under  her  neck,  waiting  patiently  for  me  to 
recover  my  senses.  I  remounted  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  rejoined  my  friends  at  Deer  Flat,  where  they 
were  waiting,  not  knowing  what  had  become  of  me. 
Again  we  are  off,  and  as  we  strike  the  bridle-path  cut 
along  the  face  of  the  precipice,  yell  after  yell,  and 
whoop  a  la  Apache  succeeds  whoop  a  la  Camanche, 
while  the  horses  break  into  a  gallop,  and  we  turn  in 


THE  RETURN  RIDE.  **,* 

and  out  the  winding  road,  and  dash  down  the  steep 
declivity  with  something  of  the  sensation  which  the 
hawk  or  eagle  must  feel  as  he  sets  his  wines  at  an 
angle,  and  slides  down  with  arrowy  swiftness  from 
the  realms  of  ether  toward  the  lower  earth.  Stones 
dislodged  by  our  horses'  feet  go  over  the  precipice, 
and  we  hear  them  bound  and  crack  from  rock  to  rock 
down  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  cailon,  hundreds  of 
feet  below;  but  the  sense  of  danger  seems  to  give 
fresh  zest  to  the  excitement  of  man  and  horse,  and 
the  mad  gallop  is  not  broken  until  we  reach  the 
wagon-road  in  the  bed  of  the  creek,  or  the  bottom  of 
the  great  ravine  by  which  we  entered  the  mountain. 
Then  the  guide  and  myself  run  our  horses  across  an 
irrigating -dam,  strike  a  hard,  smooth  mesa,  dotted 
with  live  oaks  like  an  orchard,  and  leaving  our  friends 
to  go  round  by  the  road,  ride  at  the  full  speed  of  our 
mustangs  down  it,  only  halting  when  we  have  reached 
the  stable  at  Clayton,  and  dismount  to  order  dinner. 

Dinner  over,  we  re-saddle  and  hitch  up,  and  are  off  at 
two  p.  m.  for  San  Francisco,  by  the  road  we  came  on  the 
previous  day.  An  occasional  race,  pistol  shooting  at 
quail  or  hare,  a  lunch  by  a  mountain  spring  by  the  road- 
side, and  occasional  halts  for  "refreshments,"  only  di- 
versifying the  ride  homewards,  and  at  six  p.  m.  we  are 
again  on  board  the  Washoc&X.  Oakland,  steaming-  across 
the  Bay  of  San  Francisco,  having  ridden  fifty  miles  up 
and  down  mountains  and  across  the  valleys  since  sunrise. 

Reader,  it  would  pay  you  to  make  the  trip,  and  may 
you  be  with  us  when  next  we  mount  our  fiery  and 
untamed  caballos  to  ride  up  and  down  Mount  Diablo. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

EARLY  TIMES. 

The  Days  of  '49  and  '52. — How  they  Administered  the  Law  in  Tuolumne 
County,  and  Justice  in  Sierra. — Old  Put  and  Judge  Hollowbarn. — Pike's 
' '  Sasherarer." — Peart  Times  on  Rabbit  Creek. — A  Game  that  was  Spoiled. — 
An  Appeal  that  wouldn't  hold,  and  Prediction  that  wouldn't  do  to  Bet 
Upon. — Stories  of  Wagers. — Insulted  Dignity  Avenged. — Base  Ingratitude. 
— Dead  or  Alive,  Drowned  or  Not. — A  Glass-eye  Bet. 

Brave  old  days  were  those  of  '49,  How  mankind 
has  degenerated  since,  any  old  California  pioneer  will 
tell  you  with  a  sigh.  "Things  was  lively  then,  you 
bet,  and  one  man  was  as  good  as  another!"  he  says, 
with  a  shake  of  the  head  which  implies  volumes. 
Nevertheless,  California  was  not  wholly  a  Paradise 
even  then,  though  it  pains  me  to  be  compelled  to 
say  so.  The  fierce,  aggressive  energy  of  the  Anglo- 
American  invaders,  when  it  overthrew  the  social 
habits,  long  established  customs  and  local  laws  of 
the  quiet,  unambitious  descendants  of  the  old  Spanish 
conquerors,  could  not  establish  a  new  system  perfect 
in  all  its  details  in  a  day,  and  something  of  chaos  and 
confusion  necessarily  followed.  Judge  Lynch  gen- 
erally did  his  work  quickly  and  well,  though  being 
human,  and  as  such  liable  at  times  to  err,  there  was 
something  a  little  rough  in  the  operation  of  his  de- 
cisions when  a  mistake  did  occur.  An  old  Spaniard, 
(34o) 


yUDGE  LYNCH.  ~,T 

domiciled  in  a  robber-infested  section  of  the  State  of 
Jalisco,  Mexico,  once  told  me  that  he  had  organized 
all  his  neighbor  rancheros  into  an  armed  corps,  who, 
by  waging  unceasing  war  upon  the  banditti,  had  al- 
ready almost  cleared  the  district  of  the  gentlemen  of 
the  road  within  two  years.  His  plan  was,  whenever 
a  number  of  them,  two  or  three,  were  found  lounging 
about  the  country,  "without  visible  occupation  or 
means  of  support,"  to  go  for  them  and  shoot  them 
on  sight.  In  this  way  they  avoided  the  delays  and 
uncertainties  of  the  law,  and  saved  a  great  deal  of 
unnecessary  expense  and  waste  of  time.  But,  my 
friend,  is  it  not  possible  that  you  sometimes  make  a 
mistake,  and  shoot  a  man  who  is  not  a  highwayman  ? 
"Well,  yes;  I  suppose  we  do,  but  the  average  is  on 
the  right  side  ^However  /"  was  his  emphatic  and  self- 
satisfied  reply.  The  advocate  of  Lynch  law  generally 
took  the  same  view  of  the  case  in  California,  and  saw 
the  regular  courts  and  written  laws  take  the  place  of 
Judge  Lynch  and  summary  justice  with  a  sigh.  And, 
in  truth,  there  was  some  ground  for  their  apprehen- 
sion that  society  might  not,  immediately  at  least, 
gain  greatly  by  the  change. 

In  fact,  if  the  plain  truth  must  be  told,  Dame  Jus- 
tice in  those  days,  as  represented  in  our  courts,  was 
little  better  than  a  woman  of  the  town  ;  and  she  trav- 
eled so  long  in  devious  and  crooked  ways  that  she, 
became  permanently  disabled,  and  never  fully  recov- 
ered the  free  use  of  all  her  faculties,  having  a  cast  in 
her  unbandaged  eyes,  and  a  peculiar  shuffling  limp  in 
her  gait  as  she  walks,  even  to  this  hour. 


EARLY  TIMES. 


The  people  of  San  Francisco  bore  with  her  trifling 
and  misdoings,  until  patience  ceased  to  be  a  virtue, 
and  then,  rising  in  their  might,  ousted  the  old  lady  by- 
violence,  and  installed  Dame  Vigilance  for  the  time 
being  in  her  place.  This  made  things  lively  for  the 
crowds  of  evil-doers  who  had  made  the  name  of  San 
Francisco  a  by- word  and  a  reproach,  and  the  moral 
atmosphere  was  so  purified  by  the  storm  that,  when 
the  old  dame  came  sneaking  back  and  resumed  her 
place  in  the  temple,  she  could  see  more  clearly. 

Up  in  the  mountains  it  was  hard  to  get  a  first-class 
lawyer  to  accept  a  position  so  low  down  as  even  a 
County  Judgeship,  and  as  for  the  Justices  of  the 
Peace — well,  some  of  them  were  from  rather  indif- 
ferent stock,  to  say  the  least.  "Old  Tuolumne"  was 
the  great  county  of  the  ''Southern  Mines."  Placer 
gold  was  found  on  nearly  every  hillside,  and  on  the 
banks  and  in  the  bed  of  every  stream,  while  every 
"bar"  on  her  rivers,  the  Tuolumne  and  Stanislaus, 
was  a  thriving  village  or  mining  camp,  where  miners' 
stores  and  gambling  tables  abounded.  Whisky  was 
as  free  as  water,  and  a  fight  and  a  man  for  breakfast 
was  a  part  of  the  daily  programme.  Society  became 
organized,  and  courts  were  established  in  Tuolumne 
county  earlier  than  in  most  of  the  counties  of  the 
State;  and,  if  the  machinery  worked  a  little  rough  at 
the  start,  it  is  hardly  to  be  wondered  at,  considering 
the  incongruous  materials  of  which  it  was  composed, 
and  the  hurried  manner  in  which  it  was  knocked  to- 
gether. 

Among  the  first  Justices  of  the  Peace  appointed 


JUDGE  HOLLOWBARN.  ,.,  „ 

in  Tuolumne  was  Judge  Hollowbarn,  a  shrewd,  un- 
polished, slightly  educated,  and,  as  his  enemies  were 
wont  to  say,  not  over-scrupulous  man  from  the  moun- 
tain districts  of  Tennessee,  "nigh  unto  the  Kain- 
tucky  line."  He  was  a  natural  genius;  and  had  he 
come  into  the  world  a  few  years  later,  and  taken  to 
patriotism  and  politics  instead  of  whisky  and  the 
law,  would  have  become  a  millionaire,  and  made  his 
mark  in  the  world.  He  was  one  of  the  old  school, 
and  believed  in  State  rights  and  such  a  construction 
of  the  Constitution  as  would  least  hamper  and  en- 
cumber him  in  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  his  office 
as  he  understood  them.  His  school  believed  that  all 
powers  not  expressly  delegated  by  the  Constitution 
to  the  Federal  Government  were  intended  to  be  re- 
served to  the  States  as  the  high  contracting  parties 
and  first  repository  of  authority.  By  parity  of  reas- 
oning he  had  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  the  Jus- 
tice's Court,  being  the  first  on  the  list  and  nearest  the 
people,  the  source  of  all  authority,  was  entitled  to 
exercise  all  the  powers  not  specially  prohibited  by 
statute.  This  crave  him  a  wide  rane^e  in  cases  both 
civil  and  criminal,  and  he  played  his  hand  for  all  it 
was  worth,  and  literally  went  for  everything  there 
was  in  sight.  He  was  also  fully  satisfied  that  what 
he  had  a  right,  as  a  magistrate,  to  do,  he  had  also  in 
the  same  capacity  the  right  to  undo.  Thus,  if  he 
could  marry  a  couple — and  the  statutes  clearly  gave 
him  that  power — it  followed  that  he  could  divorce 
them  aeain.  It  is  true  that  the  law  conferred  the 
power  of  granting  divorces  on  the  higher  court,  but 


n  a  a  EARL  Y  TIMES. 

o44 

there  was  not  a  line  in  the  "Statutes  and  By-laws" 
of  the  State  of  California  which  said  that  a  Justice  of 
the  Peace  should  not  have  and  exercise  the  same 
power;  and  until  the  Supreme  Court  decided  against 
him,  he  meant  to  transact  all  that  kind  of  business 
which  fell  in  his  way — and  he  did.  The  eldest  Judge 
of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  or  at 
least  the  one  longest  in  office,  was  by  right  the  Chief 
Justice  of  that  august  tribunal,  and  he  being  the  first 
in  rank  by  priority  of  commission  in  old  Tuolumne, 
was,  as  a  matter  of  course,  Chief  Justice  of  the  Peace 
of  the  county,  and  the  other  Justices  ranked  as  Asso- 
ciate Justices  of  the  Peace.  Could  any  proposition  be 
plainer  than  that  to  the  legal  mind  ?  Certainly  not ! 
So  he  regarded  it,  and  so  he,  for  a  time,  at  least,  half 
coaxed,  half  bullied,  his  colleagues  into  believing. 
And  this  was  not  all.  He  was  satisfied  that  a  travel- 
ing pedlar,  who  took  his  goods  right  to  everybody's 
door,  could  sell  double  the  amount  on  the  same  cap- 
ital that  could  be  worked  off  by  a  merchant  tied  down 
to  his  own  store,  and  the  same  rule  would  hold  good 
in  his  own  business.  People  might  object  or  neglect 
to  come  all  the  way  from  a  distant  mining  camp  to 
Jimtown  to  patronize  his  court,  but  if  his  court  fol- 
lowed the  example  vulgarly  ascribed  to  Mohammed, 
and  went  to  the  Mountain,  i.  e.,  to  them,  at  stated 
intervals,  the  case  might  be  different,  and  litigation 
would  be  made  a  convenient  and  easy,  not  to  say 
popular,  amusement  for  the  entire  community.  Act- 
ing on  this  idea,  he  dubbed  his  court  "The  Circuit 
Justice's  Court  of  Tuolumne  County,"  and,  accom- 


THE   "CIRCUIT  JUSTICE'S  COURT:1  -ac 

panied  by  his  constable  and  clerk,  made  periodical 
trips  through  all  the  mining  camps,  going  down  the 
Tuolumne  river  and  returning  up  the  Stanislaus,  stop- 
ping at  every  bar,  hearing  all  cases  at  shortest  notice 
which  came  before  him,  and  dealing  out  justice,  plain 
or  fancy,  according  to  the  wealth  and  social  position 
of  the  litigants,  as  long  as  there  were  any  complaints 
preferred,  or  there  was  even  a  moderately  remote 
chance  of  his  services  being  called  for.  Township 
lines  were  nothing  to  him ;  no  pent-up  Utica  should 
contract  his  powers.  Putting  up  a  canvas  for  an  awn- 
ing, and  setting  out  his  table  with  pens,  ink,  paper 
and  a  few  law  books,  ostentatiously  displayed  thereon, 
he  would  call  out  in  a  loud  voice,  "Oh,  yis  !  Oh, 
yis!  Oh,  y-i-i  is!  This  yere  Honorable  Circuit 
Justice's  Court  of  Tuolumne  County  is  now  legally 
opened  for  transaction  of  bizness  at  Dead  Man's 
Bar!"  and  then  glancing  around  with  an  air  of  defi- 
ance which  implied  a  readiness  to  make  good  his 
words  at  any  sacrifice,  adding,  "an'  any  d — n  man 
that  says  it  ain't  can  jist  settle  it  with  me  right  yere!" 
A  man  of  pluck  and  a  "rightist  from  the  word  go," 
with  his  reputation  in  that  line  already  well  established, 
he  seldom  found  anybody  to  contradict  him,  and  for 
a  long  time  he  had  it  pretty  much  all  his  own  way. 
But,  as  time  wore  on,  and  lawyers  grew  more  numer- 
ous, trouble  began  to  come  upon  him,  as  it  is  liable  to 
come  upon  the  worst  of  us.  Colonel  James,  Major 
Hoyt,  Sam  Piatt,  and  other  refractory  and  unmanaga- 
ble  attorneys,  badgered  and  worried  the  life  nearly 
out  of  him.     They  caviled  at  his  assumption  of  legal 


^5  EARLY  TIMES. 

knowledge ;  questioned  his  claims  to  authority  in  many 
cases,  and  even  denied  the  justice  and  legality  of  his 
decisions.  The  worst  affliction  came  last  on  the  list. 
A  lawyer,  familiarly  known  as  "Old  Put,"  with 
whom  he  had  been  on  intimate  terms  for  years,  ac- 
tually had  the  impudence  to  take  an  appeal  to  the 
County  Court,  and  had  one  of  his  decisions  reversed. 
That  was  the  straw  that  broke  the  camel's  back. 
Judge  Hollowbarn,  when  the  notice  of  the  reversal 
of  his  decision  was  served  upon  him,  was  nearly 
prostrated  by  the  shock,  and  for  some  days  he  hardly 
raised  his  head  to  respond  when  invited  to  drink. 
But  in  the  end  his  strong-  and  vigorous  nature  reas- 
serted  itself,  and  he  rose  equal  to  the  emergency. 

A  few  days  after  the  occurrence  of  this  disaster, 
Old  Put  had  a  case  before  him,  and  the  Judge  went 
in  for  even.  In  the  face  of  the  plain  letter  of  the 
law,  the  testimony,  and  his  own  precedents,  he 
decided  squarely  against  Old  Put's  client.  Then  Put 
boiled  over.  Seating-  himself  on  the  edge  of  the 
Judge's  table,  he  shook  his  fist  under  the  nose  of  the 
impersonation  of  the  majesty  of  the  law,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  relieve  himself  as  follows : 

"And  so  you  derned  old  skeesicks,  you  have  gone 
back  on  me,  have  you?  Cuss  you;  haven't  I  winked 
at  your  iniquities ;  put  up  with  your  impudence ; 
excused  your  ignorance ;  borne  with  your  ill-temper, 
and  furnished  you  with  the  best  whisky  and  grub  in 
camp  for  months  and  months  ?  And  now,  you  infer- 
nal old  scoundrel,  you  propose  to  throw  off  on  me! 
I'll  have  you  broke  as  sure  as  my  name  is — " 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  ,  :  7 

"This  yere  Honorable  Circuit  Justice's  Court  for 
Tuolumne  County  is  adjourned  for  five  minutes,  while 
I  lick  hell  out  of  Old  Put!"  roared  Judge  Hollow- 
barn,  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  fairly  purple  in  the  face, 
and  gasping  for  breath  in  his  rage,  shucking  himself 
on  the  instant,  and  going  for  Old  Put  like  a  double- 
action  earthquake  under  full  headway. 

Old  Put,  surprised  by  the  suddenness  of  the  dem- 
onstration, sprang  for  the  door,  dextrously  throwing 
a  chair  and  a  three-legged  stool  behind,  Parthian-like, 
as  he  fled,  and  "lit  out"  for  home  on  the  double- 
quick.  One  of  the  stools  got  mixed  up  with  the 
Judge's  legs,  and  they  went  down  together.  Before 
they  could  disentangle  themselves  and  the  Judge 
had  regained  his  feet,  his  friends,  who  knew  well 
enough  that  Put  had  gone  after  his  revolver,  got 
round  him  and  persuaded  him  to  let  the  matter  rest 
for  the  moment,  having  amply  vindicated  his  honor 
by  putting  his  insulting  adversary  to  ignominious 
flight.  The  Judge  was  fain  to  follow  their  advice,  but 
he  determined  in  his  heart  to  have  his  revenge. 

Next  day  he  was  riding  across  the  country  when 
he  suddenly  come  upon  Old  Put  mounted  on  horse- 
back like  himself,  and  armed  with  a  double-barreled 
shotgun  as  well  as  a  revolver.  The  Judge  took  in 
the  situation  at  a  glance ;  there  was  no  show  for  talk- 
ing fio-ht  under  the  circumstances,  but  he  had  his  leo-al 
remedy  for  his  wrongs,  and  he  determined  to  avail 
himself  of  it.  Riding  up  to  him,  he  demanded  to 
know  why  he  insulted  him  the  day  before. 

"Because  you  deserved  it,  you  infernal  old  scamp!" 


.548  EARLY  TIMES. 

"Well,  look  here,  Put,  I'll  just  convince  you  that 
you  are  damnably  fooled  if  you  think  you  can  play 
me.  1 jest  fine  you  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for 
contempt  of  court." 

"You  fine  me  for  contempt  of  court?  Why  you 
natural  born  idiot,  don't  you  know  that  your  Court 
ain't  in  session,  and  you  can't  punish  for  contempt — 
either  felt  or  expressed  ?" 

"I  can't,  eh?  Well,  you  jest  see!  I'll  show  a 
thing  or  two  before  I'm  through  with  you!" 

And  they  parted  without  saying  good-bye,  each 
going  his  way  in  wrath  and  bitterness  of  heart. 

Next  day  the  "Honorable  Circuit  Justice's  court 
in  and  for  the  County  of  Tuolumne"  was  in  session, 
and  Old  Put  appeared  for  the  plaintiff  in  a  case, 
involving  the  possessory  title  to  a  piece  of  bottom 
land,  on  which  an  honest,  rough  and  wholly  unso- 
phisticated son  of  Missouri,  known  as  Pike,  had  been 
settled  for  a  year  or  more  cultivating  vegetables,  or 
"garden-truck,"  which  he  peddled  around  among  the 
different  mining  camps.  Some  outsiders  had  jumped 
Pike's  claim  and  held  possession  by  force  of  arms  in 
clear  violation  of  right  and  law,  and  Pike  had  brought 
suit  to  eject  them.  When  Put  arose  to  open  the  case, 
he  was  promptly  shut  off  by  Judge  Hollowbarn,  who 
informed  him  that  he  was  fined  $250  for  contempt  of 
Court  committed  two  days  previously,  and  he  could 
not  say  a  word  in  that  tribunal  until  the  fine  was  paid. 
Old  Put  was  in  a  towering  ragfe,  and  he  cursed  and 
expostulated  until  he  was  black  in  the  face,  but  jus- 
tice personified  by  the  Judge  sat  stern  and  impertur- 


A  NEW  CODE.  -  ,n 

j'tv 

bable.  Let  the  heathen  rage ;  was  he  not  strong  in 
his  position,  and  could  he  not  smile  at  all  attempts  to 
brow-beat  or  convince  him?  Of  course  he  was,  and 
he  did.  Old  Put,  seeing  that  it  was  useless  to  at- 
tempt to  argue  the  matter  and  determined  not  to  be 
robbed,  refused  to  come  down  with  the  money,  and 
drew  out  of  the  case,  advising  Pike  to  substitute 
Major  Hoyt  as  his  counsel,  and  go  on  with  the  trial. 
Pike  took  his  advice,  went  on  with  the  case,  proved  as 
clear  as  the  sunlight  at  mid-day  that  he  was  in  the 
right,  and  then  listened  in  blank  astonishment  to  a 
decision  in  favor  of  his  opponents  from  the  Judge. 
Thereupon  Pike  and  his  counsel  withdrew  and  talked 
the  matter  over  outside.  The  decision  was  clearly 
an  outrage,  and  in  utter  defiance  of  justice  and  the 
law ;  but  what  could  they  do  ?  The  Major  advised 
an  appeal  and,  Pike  consenting,  he  returned  and 
made  in  open  court  his  notice  to  that  effect. 

"Not  if  this  honorable  court  knows  herself!  That 
thing  is  played  out.  We  don't  allow  any  more  ap- 
peals from  this  tribunal.  That's  our  new  rule,  and 
we're  goin'  to  stand  by  it  every  time  after  this,"  was 
the  prompt  and  decided  answer  of  the  "Chief  Jus- 
tice." The  astonished  counsel  attempted  to  argue 
the  illegality  of  such  a  rule,  but  desisted  on  the  threat 
of  a  fine  for  contempt  of  court,  and,  considerably 
crestfallen,  withdrew  again  to  consult  with  his  client. 
Pike  wanted  to  know  if  that  was  the  end  of  the  mat- 
ter, and  he  must  quietly  submit  to  be  ruined  in  that 
infamous  way.  The  Major  told  him  that  there  was 
but  one  way  now  left  him  to  obtain  a  remedy,  and  as 


-,-n  EARLY  TIMES. 

he  knew  that  he,  Pike,  was  a  poor  man,  he  feared 
that  it  would  be  too  expensive  for  him.  Pike  said, 
"damn  the  expense,"  he  wanted  justice,  and  he  would 
have  it  or  die.  "Well,"  said  his  counsel,  "if  you  can 
give  the  requisite  security  and  get  a  writ  of  certiorari 
from  the  County  Court  at  Sonora,  you  can  have  the 
case  carried  up  there  and  tried  before  a  jury  in  spite 
of  the  old  scoundrel." 

"How  much  security,  Major?" 

"Well,  double  the  value  of  the  ground;  say  $800 
in  a  bond,  with  two  good  sureties,  or  the  amount  in 
dust." 

"And  the  other  thing;   what  d'ye  call  it,  Major?" 

"Why,  a  certiorari/" 

"A  which?" 

"A  certiorari /" 

Pike  repeated  the  last  phrase  over  several  times, 
and  in  deep  thought  made  his  way  to  the  nearest  sa- 
loon and  called  for  "whisky  straight,"  of  which  he 
swallowed  about  half  a  pint,  and  then  sat  down  to 
think  it  over.  As  the  liquor,  little  by  little,  took  ef- 
fect on  his  brain,  he  saw  his  way  clearer  and  clearer 
out  of  the  legal  muddle,  and  at  last  rising  equal  to 
the  occasion,  he  started  a  little  unsteadily  to  his  feet, 
and  made  his  way  as  straight  as  he  was  able  to  the 
court  room.  Entering  the  hall  of  justice  with  the 
light  of  coming  triumph  in  his  eyes,  and  calm  deter- 
mination depicted  on  his  severely  classic  countenance, 
he  advanced  boldly  to  the  Judge's  table,  and  striking 
an  imposing  attitude,  opened  the  campaign  as  follows: 

"Well,  Judge,  I've  talked  this  yere  matter  over 


PIKE'S  PERSUADER.  ,rj 

with  my  li-yer,  an'  he  'vises  me  that  if  I  can  give  the 
security  an'  perduce  a  sasherarer,  I  kin  hev  this  yere 
case  carried  up  ter  Sonora  in  spite  of  yer!" 

"Yes,  Pike,  if  you  think  it  will  pay,  and  you  ain't 
satisfied  with  my  decision,  I  s'pose  you  can  do  it,  but 
all  I  can  say  is,  I've  decided  'cordin'  to  law,  and  tried 
to  do  you  justice,  and  you'll  find  that  out  when  you 
have  spent  what  money  you  have  got  in  lawin'  it, 
and  feeing  these  infernal  thievin'  lawyers." 

•'Never  yer  mind  what  I'll  spend,  nor  what  you've 
tried  ter  do  fur  me,  Judge ;  what  I  want  ter  know  is, 
will  the  security  on  a  sasherarer  do  it?" 

''Of  course  it'll  do  it;  but,  as  I  was  sayin' — " 

"That'll  do,  Judge!  Yer  infernal  old  skunk,  I've 
just  got  yer  this  time  whar  the  har's  short,  you  bet!" 
Here  he  drew  a  large  buckskin  bag  of  gold-dust  from 
his  pocket,  and  slapped  it  on  the  table  with  one  hand, 
while  with  the  other  he  dexterously  pulled  from  its 
scabbard  from  behind  him  his  huge  army-sized  Colt's 
revolver,  swung  it  over  his  head,  cocking  it  as  he  did 
so,  and  bringing  it  down  with  a  heavy  thud  on  the 
table,  with  the  muzzle  pointing  directly  in  the  line  of 
the  Judge's  diaphragm.  "Thar's  my  security,  an' 
dern  yer  connubiating  old  gizzard,  whar's  my  sash- 
erarer?" 

The  Judge  was  no  coward,  but  he  took  one  good 
look  at  the  revolver  pointing  directly  at  his  vitals, 
with  its  six  chambers  filled  to  the  end  with  powder 
and  lead,  raised  his  eyes  to  Pike's  face,  and  saw  dead- 
ly determination  in  every  curve  and  line  and  wrinkle, 
and — he  weakened. 


„  -  0  EARL  Y  TIMES. 

002 

"'Tain't  no  use  of  our  quarreling,  Pike;  you  can 
take  an  appeal  this  time!" 

"Oh,  I  kin,  kin  I?  Well,  fer  fear  of  anythin'  hap- 
penin'  ter  make  yer  disremember  it,  yer  kin  jist  pass 
them  ar  papers  rite  over  heyer  this  minnit,  an'  the 
thine '11  be  settled!" 

And  Pike,  as  good  as  his  word,  stood  there  cover- 
ing the  Tudee  with  his  "sasherarer"  at  full  cock,  until 
the  clerk  made  out  the  document  without  any  unnec- 
essary verbiage,  you  may  be  sure;  and  they  were 
duly  signed  by  his  Honor  with  slightly  unsteady 
hand,  and  passed  over  to  him.  The  precedent  estab- 
lished in  this  case  was  ruinous  to  Judge  Hollowbarn. 
He  never  fully  recovered  from  the  shock ;  and  other 
summary  proceedings  following  thick  and  fast  upon 
if,  he  soon  after  threw  up  the  judicial  sponge,  retired 
from  the  field,  and  drifted  away  from  the  sight — al- 
most from  the  memory  as  well — of  the  dwellers  in 
Old  Tuolumne,  going,  none  knew  or  cared  where,  to 
seek  the  obscurity  he  was  so  well  fitted  to  adorn. 

Sometimes  the  sentiment  of  the  community  was 
divided  between  a  preference  for  summary  justice  as 
administered  by  Judge  Lynch,  and  respect  for  the 
majesty  of  the  law,  as  embodied  in  the  legally  con- 
stituted courts.  In  such  cases  a  compromise  was 
usually  agreed  upon,  a  trial  taking  place  with  all  the 
forms  of  the  written  law,  but  under  the  direction  of 
Judge  Lynch.  When  our  friend  from  Old  Tuolumne 
had  finished  his-  story  of  the  Honorable  Circuit  Jus- 
tice's Court,   Col.  Charles   W.   Crocker,  now  of  the 


PEART  TIMES  ON  RABBIT  CREEK.  ,^3 

Oregon  Bulletin,  who  has  knocked  around  the  Pacific 
Coast  in  all  its  highways  and  byways  for  many  a 
year,  and  studied  the  character  and  peculiarities  of  its 
people  as  closely  as  any  man  living,  chipped  in  and 
gave  us,  in  his  own  peculiar  and  characteristic  style, 
a  story  of  the  doings  of  himself  and  companions  in 
the  summary  justice  line,  in  the  days  when  they  had 
"peart  times  on  Rabbit  Creek: 

The  bustle  amone  the  inhabitants  of  La  Porte,  the 
principal  mining  camp  on  Rabbit  Creek,  as  observed 
through  the  silvery  gray  atmosphere  which  encircled 
the  town  on  the  morning  of  the  19th  of  March,  1852, 
indicated  that  something  unusual  was  on  the  tapis. 
Red-shirted  men,  whose  faces  were  covered  with 
shaggy  beards,  whose  hair  fell  in  tangled  disorder 
over  their  shoulders,  and  who  wore  their  pantaloons 
stuffed  into  the  top  of  their  boots;  who  carried  re- 
volvers and  huge  bowie  knives  in  their  belts,  and 
constantly  puffed  volumes  of  smoke  from .  their  lips, 
were  to  be  seen  going  from  one  saloon  to  another,  or 
stopping  for  a  moment  on  the  only  street  of  which 
the  town  could  boast,  for  the  purpose  of  shaking 
hands  with  some  old  acquaintance  or  exchanging  a 
few  words.  The  very  atmosphere  seemed  to  impress 
even  the  most  casual  observer  that  something  more 
than  the  usual  dull  routine  of  a  mining  camp  life  was 
about  to  transpire. 

Four  long  weary  months  had  dragged  themselves 
by  since  the  snow  came  down  upon  Rabbit  Creek 
Canon,  and  put  an  end  to  all  out-door  operations  of 
the  miners.     For  four  months  the  little  town  had  been 


,,c„  EARLY  TIMES. 

cut  off  from  all  communication  with  its  neighbors. 
The  earth  was  buried  deep  beneath  the  white  shroud 
which  had  so  silently  fallen  upon  it.  The  creek  was 
bound  in  fetters  of  ice,  and  the  piercing  blast  from  the 
trumpet  of  rude  Boreas,  who  sat  amongst  the  crags 
high  up  the  Sierras,  had  come  down  through  the 
canons  and  gulches  with  a  keenness  that  made  them 
cut  like  a  razor,  and  kept  everybody  within  doors. 
Four  months  had  elapsed  since  a  mail  had  been  re- 
ceived, and  during  all  of  that  time  the  inhabitants  of 
the  camp  had  eaten  their  food,  made  snow-shoes,  and 
waited  patiently  for  news  from  the  outer  world. 

A  slight  thaw,  followed  by  a  severe  "cold  snap," 
occurring  a  few  days  before  the  opening  of  my  sketch, 
had  formed  a  thick  crust  upon  the  snow.  This  crust 
being  sufficiently  strong  to  support  the  heaviest  man, 
its  advent  was  hailed  with  universal  delight,  because 
it  enabled  the  miners  to  get  abroad.  The  reader  may 
rest  assured  that  after  having  been  held  in  snowy  fet- 
ters so  long,  the  residents  were  only  too  glad  to  visit 
the  town,  where  they  could  spend  a  few  hours  in  the 
drinking-saloons  and  stores  in  talking  over  the  pros- 
pects of  the  coming  season,  or  visit  the  gambling- 
house  and  indulge  their  passion  for  gaming — a  pas- 
sion that  existed  in  the  breast  of  nearly  every  miner 
in  California  during  the  five  years  following  the  ad- 
vent of  the  mining  population. 

The  gamblers,  those  who  dealt  faro,  monte,  and 
other  games  of  chance,  and  who  followed  no  other 
occupation,  were  delighted  with  the  change.  For 
weeks  it  had  been  "dog  eat  dog"  with   them,  and 


LA  PORTE.  355 

now  the  prospect  of  having  a  few  outsiders  to  fleece 
was  a  source  of  great  gratification.  In  order  to  cele- 
brate the  event  they  had  clubbed  together,  raised  a 
purse  of  a  thousand  dollars,  and  offered  it  as  a  prize 
to  the  person  who  could  make  the  quickest  time  on 
snow-shoes  over  a  track  to  be  designated  by  a  com- 
mittee. The  contest  was  to  be  free  to  all  who  chose 
to  eno-aee  in  it ;  and  it  was  to  witness  this  race  that 
so  many  of  the  hardy  sons  of  toil  came  into  La  Porte, 
and  their  arrival  in  the  village  had  caused  the  bustle 
alluded  to  in  the  opening  paragraph. 

La  Porte,  at  the  time  of  which  we  write,  consisted 
of  half  a  dozen  saloons,  where  liquor  was  sold  and 
games  of  chance  played,  two  or  three  stores  where 
groceries,  mining  tools,  etc.,  were  kept  on  hand,  a 
couple  of  blacksmith  shops,  a  shoe  shop,  and  a  hotel. 
It  was  as  flourishing  a  camp  as  could  be  found  in  the 
mines ;  and  the  miners  on  Rabbit  Creek  were  as  in- 
dustrious and  thrifty  as  any  in  California. 

The  miners  as  they  came  into  the  town  on  the 
morning  referred  to,  would  drop  into  a  saloon,  ex- 
change a  few  words  with  the  inmates,  take  a  drink  or 
two,  and  then  go  to  another  saloon,  where  the  pro- 
ceedings would  be  repeated.  Upon  the  countenance 
of  every  one  could  be  observed  a  look  which  indicat- 
ed relief  from  confinement,  a  determination  to  enjoy 
the  day,  and  a  sort  of  I-don't-care-for-anything  ap- 
pearance generally. 

The  attention  of  a  group  of  persons  standing  in 
front  of  the  hotel  was  attracted  to  a  man  who  was 
descending  the  hill,  at  the  foot  of  which  the  town  was 


or 6  EARLY  TIMES. 

built.  He  was  a  tall,  raw-boned  man  of  about  thirty 
years  of  age ;  although  his  stooping  shoulders  and 
swinging  gait  gave  him  the  appearance  of  being  much 
smaller  than  he  really  was. 

There  was  something  in  the  movement  of  the  man 
to  attract  attention,  and  as  he  drew  nearer  and  a  bet- 
ter view  of  his  features  were  obtained,  the  broad, 
high  forehead  and  piercing  nut-brown  eyes  indica  ed 
that  he  was  a  man  equal  to  any  emergency,  and  one 
who  could  upon  occasion  wield  a  powerful  force  for 
good  or  evil  amongst  his  acquaintances. 

Gabe  Husker,  for  such  was  the  name  of  the  person 
who  had  become  the  centre  of  attraction,  was  the 
owner  of  a  valuable  mine  a  couple  of  miles  above  the 
town.  It  was  generally  thought  he  had  a  large 
amount  of  gold  dust  hidden  away  ;  and  this  belief  be- 
ing shared  by  the  gamblers,  they  had  made  number- 
less efforts  to  induce  him  to  play,  but  so  far  without 
success.  In  fact  Gabe  had  no  love  for  gaming,  nor 
liking  for  those  who  managed  games  of  chance.  He 
regarded  all  gamblers  as  thieves,  and  was  no  way 
bashful  in  speaking  his  sentiments.  The  gamesters, 
however,  refused  to  be  insulted  by  him,  because  they 
hoped  ultimately  to  be  able  to  succeed  in  their  de- 
signs, when  they  would  be  avenged  for  all  the  insults 
he  had  ever  given  them. 

"Times  are  right  peart  on  Rabbit  Creek,  ain't 
they  ? "  asked  Gabe,  as  he  entered  one  of  the  saloons, 
where  a  number  of  persons  were  standing  in  front  of 
a  long  counter,  waiting  for  drinks  that  were  being 
prepared  by  the  bar- keeper. 


GABE  HUSKER,  ~rj 

"Hello,  Gabe,  is  that  you?  I'm  dern  glad  to  see 
you!"  "How's  things  out  in  the  hill?"  "Many  of 
the  boys  comin'  down  to-day?"  "By  jingo,  yon 
look  sorter  blue  round  the  gills  ;  come  up  and  name 
yer  ruin,"  exclaimed  a  dozen  voices,  and  as  many 
hands  were  extended  to  welcome  the  new  arrival. 

Amongst  those  welcoming  Gabe  was  Hank  Sey- 
mour, the  owner  of  one  of  the  most  valuable  claims 
on  the  creek — a  good  natured  fellow,  whose  worst 
enemy  was  his  appetite ;  who  never  visited  the  town 
without  getting  drunk,  and,  when  in  that  condition, 
and  unfit  for  any  business,  visiting  the  gambling- 
houses  and  losing  heavily.  He  had  been  one  of  the 
first  to  arrive  on  the  morning  alluded  to,  and  had  im- 
mediately commenced  drinking. 

"Thank  yer;  'blieve  I  will  wet  my  sofergrass  with 
a  mite  of  Kaintuck  wine.  It's  powerful  good  for  a 
steady  drink ;  a  miserable  sight  better  nor  champagne 
and  absence  ;  sticks  closer  to  yer  ribs,  and  don't  leave 
no  headache  behind.  Then,  again,  it's  a  home  pro- 
duction, and  I  allers  allow  that  a  man  as  don't  pat- 
ternize  home  products  ain't  worth  shucks.  So,  bar- 
keep,  yer  may  jiss  pass  over  yer  corn-juice!" 

"Will  you  take  bitters  or  sugar,  sir?" 

"Sugar  or  bitters  in  liquor?  Not  by  a  derned 
sight!  When  I  drink  liquor  I  drink  it  for  itself,  and 
not  for  bitters  or  other  adjunctifications.  I  sorter  im- 
agine that  yer  don't  reckon  I'm  from  Pike  county, 
Missouri,  or  you  wouldn't  ask  me  if  I  drank  sugar 
or  bitters  in  my  liquor !  No  sir-ee,  Bob !  I  allers 
drinks  my  liquor  straight!" 


org  EARLY  TIMES. 

A  bottle  was  placed  before  him.  Pouring  a  glass 
nearly  full,  Gabe  raised  it  in  his  hand,  held  it  between 
the  light  and  his  eye,  and  after  gazing  at  it  affection- 
ately for  a  few  moments,  said : 

"Here's  to  we  uns  ;  may  we  all  have  heaps  of  luck 
and  water  when  the  winter  breaks." 

"We'll  all  drink  to  that!"  exclaimed  the  miners  as 
they  raised  the  glasses  to  their  lips  and  poured  the 
liquid  fire  down  their  throats. 

"As  I  remarked,  when  I  first  came  in,  times  are 
right  peart  on  Rabbit  Creek,  ain't  they?' 

"Yes,  sorter,  kind  o' peart,"  responded  one  of  the 
group.  "The  fact  is,  times  has  been  infernally  dull 
for  a  long  while,  and  'twas  necessary  for  to  do  some- 
thing to  bust  the  shell.  Things  having  got  a  boost, 
there  is  a  right  smart  chance  of  peartness  goin'  on." 

The  speaker  was  the  proprietor  of  a  faro  game, 
who,  being  anxious  to  cultivate  Mr.  Husker's  ac- 
quaintance, sought  to  improve  the  occasion.  He  was 
a  large-framed,  bull-necked,  dark-eyed,  scowling- 
countenanced  fellow,  known  by  the  name  of  Chad- 
wick,  who,  rumor  declared,  had,  since  his  advent  into 
California,  killed  one  or  two  men  and  robbed  a  great 
many  others,  but  during  his  residence  on  Rabbit 
Creek  he  had  conducted  himself  in  a  manner  to  give 
no  offense.  His  features  were  marked  with  several 
deep  scars,  which  gave  evidence  of  his  having  par- 
ticipated in  many  a  desperate  combat,  while  the 
bowie-knife  and  revolver  in  his  belt  indicated  that  he 
was  prepared  for  war  at  any  moment. 

By  eleven  o'clock  between  three  and  four  hundred 


THE   SNOW-SHOE  RACE.  ~rQ 

miners  had  assembled  in  the  town,  and  all  were  more 
or  less  under  the  influence  of  liquor.  The  gamblers, 
after  treating  all  hands  until  they  began  to  show 
symptoms  of  inebriation,  opened  their  little  games 
and  commenced  winning  the  money  of  those  who 
were  foolish  enough  to  play.  Around  each  table 
could  be  seen  a  crowd  of  hardy  fellows  betting  their 
hard-earned  dust,  and  indulging  in  rude  jests  and  bois- 
terous laughter.  The  harsh  oaths  that  would  occa- 
sionally  escape  from  the  lips  of  some  of  the  players, 
gave  evidence  that  luck  could  not  prevail  against  sci- 
entific attainments  in  the  art  of  cheating,  and  that  the 
gamblers  were  making  hay  while  the  sun  shone. 

After  the  noon-day  meal  had  been  disposed  of,  the 
committee  of  arrangements  set  to  work  to  arrange 
the  preliminaries  for  the  snow-shoe  race.  Judges, 
time-keepers,  referees,  starters,  etc.,  were  appointed, 
rules  established,  and  everything  fixed  in  consonance 
with  the  ideas  of  the  majority  of  the  committee. 
Then  those  who  were  to  take  part  in  the  contest 
were  notified  to  appear  at  the  starting-post.  The 
judges  took  their  positions ;  those  who  had  been  ab- 
sorbed in  gambling  forsook  the  tables,  and  sought 
places  from  whence  a  good  view  of  the  race  could 
be  had. 

When  the  hour  for  starting  arrived  the  signal  was 
given,  and  the  contestants  bounded  off  with  the  speed 
of  lightning.  At  the  last  moment  a  woman  appeared 
upon  the  scene  and  started  with  the  others.  She  was 
evidently  an  expert  in  the  use  of  the  snow-shoes,  and 
passed  several  of  the  contestants  during  the  first  hun- 


,^0  EARLY   TIMES. 

dred  yards.  Those  who  were  watch  ng  the  race  be- 
came fearfully  excited,  and  whenever  the  woman 
would  succeed  in  passing  one  of  the  racers,  they 
would  make  the  welkin  ring  with  their  shouts  of  joy 
and  encouragement. 

"Who  is  she?"  was  asked  on  all  sides,  but  no  one 
answered  the  question. 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  give  a  description  of  the 
snow-shoe  race,  nor  to  paint  a  picture  of  the  exciting 
contest.  I  only  allude  to  it  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
the  reader  a  clue  to  what  is  yet  to  come.  The  race 
was  soon  over,  and  was  won  by  the  mysterious  fe- 
male, who  had  been  materially  aided  by  the  wind 
catching  in  the  skirts  of  her  dress. 

Perhaps  her  success  may  partially  have  been  caused 
by  the  gallantry  of  the  other  contestants,  who  thought 
it  would  be  ungentlemanly  to  beat  a  woman.  But  of 
this  we  cannot  speak  knowingly. 

There  were  but  two  or  three  females  on  Rabbit 
Creek  at  the  time  of  which  we  write,  and  consequent- 
ly great  curiosity  prevailed  to  learn  which  one  had 
entered  the  lists  and  carried  off  the  prize,  and  no 
sooner  had  the  contestants  crossed  the  home  mark 
than  the  crowd  rushed  forward  and  surrounded  them. 

"Who  is  she?"  cried  a  dozen  voices,  the  owners  of 
which  were  pushing  with  might  and  main  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  the  lady's  features. 

The  victor  threw  back  the  bonnet  and  veil  that 
covered  and  concealed  her  features,  and  revealed  the 
face  of  a  man,  bearded  like  a  pard. 

"Oh,  pshaw!  'taint  no  woman,  after  all !"  exclaimed 


MURDER.  „£j 

Hank  Seymour,  as  he  elbowed  his  way  from  the  cen- 
ter of  the  circle. 

"Then  who  in  thunder  is  it?"  asked  one  who  was 
using  his  best  efforts  to  get  a  sight  of  the  champion. 

"Well  I'm  danged  ef  that  ar  woman  don't  turn  out 
to  be  Jim  Wilkinham,  who  lives  over  on  t'  other  side 
of  the  hill,"  said  Gabe  Husker,  whose  curiosity  ap- 
peared to  have  been  satisfied.  "  jim  has  been  playing 
roots  on  the  boys,  and  is  a  thousand  dollars  better 
off  fur  havin'  done  so.  But  dog  me  ef  I  don't  think 
the  race  ought  to  be  run  over  agin.  I  wouldn't  stand 
being  cheated  that  way  ef  I  was  one  of  'em." 

At  this  moment  fierce,  angry  words  were  heard 
within  the  circle.  Several  persons  appeared  to  be 
taking  part  in  the  dispute,  and  again  the  crowd  pressed 
forward  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  Suddenly  the 
sharp  report  of  a  pistol  rang  out,  and  the  crowd 
which  had  formed  the  circle  fled  pell-mell.  Turning 
quickly,  Husker  saw  that  a  murder  had  been  com- 
mitted. The  winner  of  the  purse  Avas  lying  motion- 
less upon  the  snow,  while  the  blood,  pouring  in  a 
stream  from  a  wound  in  his  bosom,  was  rapidly 
crimsoning  the  ground.  The  bullet  had  passed 
through  his  heart,  and  death  had  been  instantaneous. 
A  few  feet  distant  stood  Chadwick,  coolly  returning 
his  revolver  to  its  resting-place  in  the  scabbard  which 
hung  over  his  hip. 

"What  in  hell  have  yer  been  a  doing?"  yelled 
Husker  as  he  jumped  toward  the  murderer. 

"Bin  a  o-ivin'  a  dern  skunk  his  deserts.  No  dano- 
dead-beat  can  ever  git  any  of  my  money  by  such  a 


■2(32  EARLY  TIMES. 

fraud  upon  the  community  as  this  one.  I  go  fur  all 
sich,  every  time,  you  bet!" 

"I  guess  we'll  have  to  go  fur  you,"  said  Husker,  as 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  murderer. 

"Don't  you  lay  yer  hands  on  me,  or  by  the  holy 
St.  Paul  I'll  put  daylight  through  you,"  yelled  the 
gambler  as  he  leaped  back  and  made  a  motion  as  if 
to  draw  a  weapon. 

"That's  played  out,  and  it  won't  be  remarkably 
healthy  fur  you  to  attempt  to  draw  yer  weapons  on 
old  Gabe.  He  has  fit  too  many  grizzlies  to  be  afeard 
of  such  a  catamount  as  you.  Ef  you  surrender  yer- 
self  into  custody,  I'll  see  that  you  have  a  fair,  square 
trial,  but  ef  you  make  a  dern  fool  of  yerself,  you'll 
go  up  the  flume  without  judge  or  jury." 

"I  don't  propose  to  have  you  interfere  in  my  af- 
fairs, and  I  guess  I'll  prepare  you  for  a  funeral,"  cried 
the  gambler,  as  he  drew  his  pistol  and  pointed  it  at 
Gabe. 

Before  the  desperado  had  time  to  pull  the  trigger, 
his  arms  were  beaten  down  and  he  was  seized  from 
behind  by  some  of  the  miners,  who  soon  overpow- 
ered and  securely  bound  him,  hand  and  foot,  and  car- 
ried him  into  the  tavern,  around  the  door  of  which  a 
number  of  excited  persons  instantly  collected.  Some 
proposed  to  satisfy  the  ends  of  justice  by  hanging  the 
prisoner  at  once,  but  Gabe,  who  appeared  to  have 
been  intuitively  accepted  as  a  leader,  declared  that 
the  fair  name  of  the  Rabbit  Creekers  should  not  be 
tarnished  by  acts  of  lawlessness. 

The  prisoner,  notwithstanding  that  he  was  bound 


NOT  BORN   TO  BE  HANGED.  „A„ 

hand  and  foot,  and  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  his  cap- 
tors, was  as  cool  and  collected  as  if  he  was  seated 
behind  his  gambling- table,  shuffling  cards  for  a  lot  of 
greenhorns.  He  would  sneeringly  address  those 
who  were  crying  out  for  his  life,  and  say : 

"  You  dern  fools  are  a-wastin'  of  yer  breaths.  Yer 
can't  hang  me.  'Tain't  in  the  cards.  I  wasn't  born 
to  be  huno-.  So  'tain't  no  use  making  a  fuss  about 
sich  a  little  matter,  and  you'd  be  making  money  ef 
you'd  stop  botherin'  me." 

"What  makes  you  think  there  is  no  danger  of  our 
hanging  you?"  asked  one  of  those  who  had  been 
stationed  as  guard  over  the  prisoner. 

"'Cause  when  I  was  born'd,  the  stars  showed  that 
I  was  to  be  drownded." 

''May  be  the  stars  will  fail." 

"They  can't.  They  have  shone  in  the  heavens 
ever  since  the  creation,  and  will  remain  thar  until 
the  end  of  time;  so  'tis  impossible  for  'em  to  fail." 

"We'll  see  about  it  after  a  while." 

The  question  of  how  the  prisoner  should  be  tried 
was  a  difficult  one  to  settle.  There  was  no  regularly 
instituted  court  nearer  than  Marysville,  and  to  send 
him  there  and  await  the  law's  delays  would  cost  too 
much  money,  occupy  too  much  time,  and  be  certain 
to  result  in  the  prisoner's  escaping  merited  punish- 
ment. After  the  subject  had  been  thoroughly  can- 
vassed in  all  its  bearings,  it  was  decided  to  organize  a 
court,  and  have  the  trial  take  place  immediately. 
Gabe  Husker  was  chosen  judge,  another  miner  sher- 
iff ;  a  jury  was  then  selected  to  try  the  prisoner,  and 


,g4  EARLY  TIMES. 

sworn  by  the  judge  to  perform  their  duties  to  the 
best  of  their  ability.  A  person  who  had  witness- 
ed the  shooting  volunteered  to  act  as  prosecuting 
attorney,  and  a  gambler  who  had  been  a  friend  of 
the  prisoner  was  sent  for  to  appear  and  conduct  the 
defense. 

In  response  to  the  summons,  the  latter  entered  the 
room  where  the  court  was  being  held,  and  seated 
himself  beside  the  prisoner.  His  eyes  no  sooner 
rested  on  the  faces  of  those  chosen  as  jurors  than  he 
felt  that  the  fate  of  his  client  was  decided,  and,  though 
he  labored  ever  so  hard,  he  would  be  unable  to  ac- 
complish anything. 

The  preliminaries  having  been  arranged,  Judge 
Husker  took  a  seat  upon  the  table,  and  directed  the 
sheriff  to  declare  the  court  open  for  business. 

"Oh,  yes!  Oh,  yes!  All  ye  are  hereby  notified 
that  this  court  is  now  open  for  the  trial  of  David 
Chadwick  for  the  higfh  crime  of  murder.  All  assem- 
bled  will  take  notice,  and  govern  themselves  accord- 
ingly," cried  the  sheriff. 

A  few  moments'  confusion  followed  this  announce- 
ment, during  which  the  crowd  endeavored  to  secure 
seats  or  favorable  positions  from  which  to  observe  the 
proceedings.  Silence  having  been  secured,  the  judge 
said: 

"This  'ere  honorable  court  is  now  open  for  the 
trial  of  a  person  accused  of  the  murder  of  a  human 
beino-.  I  find  myself  in  a  peculiar  situation,  and 
must  own  that  I  have  some  misgivings  of  my  ability 
to  discharge  the  duties  of  that  position.     But  I'll  try 


A    QUESTION  OF  LA IV.  35- 

my  level  best  to  be  equal  to  the  occasion.  We  are 
away  up  here  in  the  mountains  whar  we  hain't  got  no 
Californy  law,  therefore  I  propose  to  put  it  to  a  vote 
whether  we  shall  try  the  prisoner  by  Lynch  law  or 
Missouri  law.  I  hold  in  my  hand  a  copy  of  the 
Constitution  and  By-Laws  of  the  State  of  Missouri, 
which  are  good  enough  law  for  me,  and  ought  to  be 
good  enough  for  any  one.  It  will  look  better  abroad 
ef  we  try  the  prisoner  by  real  law  than  by  Lynch 
law,  consequently  I'm  in  favor  of  usin'  Missouri  law 
on  this  trial ;  but  liaving  been  elected  judge  by  you, 
I  shall  be  governed  entirely  by  your  decision. 

"Your  head  is  level,  you  bet,  Judge,"  cried  one  of 
the  spectators. 

"Now  all  that  is  in  favor  of  trying  the  prisoner  by 
Missouri  law  say  yes,"  continued  his  Honor. 

A  tremendous  "yes"  went  up  from  the  throats  of 
the  assembled  multitude,  the  prisoner  voting  in  the 
affirmative,  and  saying : 

"I  like  Missouri  law  better  than  Lynch  law, 
'cause  you  see  real  law  has  a  restrainin'  influence  onto 
the  jurors." 

"You  have  decided  that  this  trial  shall  be  governed 
by  real  law,"  continued  the  Court.  "I  think  it  would 
be  doin'  the  neat  thing  ef  some  one  would  heft  up  a 
prayer  as  a  sort  o'  starter.  Ef  any  of  you  have  had 
experience  in  wrestling  with  the  Lord,  I  hope  you 
won't  be  backward  about  volunteerin.'  Tom  Ray- 
burn,  yer  father  was  an  old  prayer  fighter ;  can't  you 
give  us  a  heft  ? ' ' 

"No,  thank  you,  Judge;  the  old  man  consumed  all 


,56  EARLY  TIMES. 

the  prayer  there  was  in  our  family,  and  didn't  leave 
any  for  his  boys." 

"Bill  Gillam,  you  used  to  'tend  meetin'  afore  you 
come  to  Californy;  what  do  you  say?" 

"Raly,  Gabe,  yer  Honor,  ef  yer  please,  I  don't 
feel  ekal  to  the  task." 

After  calling  upon  several  others  with  like  results, 
Gabe  knelt  down  and  offered  up  a  fervent  but  homely 
petition  to  the  Throne  of  Grace  for  guidance  during 
the  trial.  He  prayed  that  the  hearts  of  the  jurors 
might  be  softened  towards  the  accused,  so  that  they 
might  judge  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  justly,  and  deal 
with  him  rightly.  He  pleaded  for  courage  to  perform 
the  disagreeable  duty  that  had  been  imposed  on  him, 
and  closed  with  an  appeal  for  mercy  for  him  whose 
hands  were  yet  warm  with  the  blood  of  a  fellow-be- 
ing. 

"I  say,  Judge,  let's  have  something  to  drink  afore 
we  go  any  further  with  this  ere  show,"  said  the  pris- 
oner;  ''that  dern  long  prayer  of  yourn  has  made  me 
feel  as  dry  as  a  tinder-box." 

"Well,  I  don't  keer  ef  I  do  take  a  little  tarantaler 
juice  to  make  things  run  smooth,"  replied  the  Court. 

The  sheriff,  without  waiting  for  orders,  hastened  to 
fetch  the  liquors  and  some  glasses  from  the  bar.  His 
Honor  and  the  prisoner  took  a  drink  together,  the 
latter  saying : 

"I  drink  to  the  success  of  yer  show  ;  now  go  ahead 
and  get  through  with  this  dern  nonsense.  I  want  to 
get  back  to  my  game." 

The  sheriff  was  going  to  remove  the  bottle,  when 


THE    VERDICT. 


$7 


his  Honor  stopped  him,  saying-,  "This  ere  will  proba- 
bly be  trying  work,  and  I  guess  you  had  better  leave 
the  liquor,  I  may  want  some  more  of  it." 

The  trial  was  then  commenced,  and  conducted  with 
perfect  fairness.  A  number  of  witnesses  testified  to 
the  shooting ;  in  fact,  the  prisoner  himself  declared  to 
the  jury  that  he  had  killed  the  miner,  and  gave  as  a 
reason  for  having  done  so,  that  he  had  fooled  everv- 
body  by  putting  on  woman's  clothing,  exciting  their 
curiosity,  and  swindling  those  engaged  in  the  race. 
For  his  part,  he  thought  "any  dern  skunk  as  would 
humbug  a  whole  mining  camp  deserved  to  have  a 
bullet-hole  bored  through  his  diaphragm." 

After  the  testimony  had  been  taken,  the  case  was 
summed  up  in  short  speeches  by  the  counsel  and  sub- 
mitted to  the  jury.  A  whispered  conversation  for  a 
few  moments  followed,  and  then  the  verdict  was  an- 
nounced. The  prisoner  had  been  found  guilty  of 
murder  in  the  first  degree,  and  sentenced  to  be  hanged 
by  the  neck  until  he  was  dead, 

"I'll  bet  any  man  in  the  room  five  to  one  that  I 
am  not  hanged  until  I  am  dead,"  coolly  remarked  the 
prisoner,  when  the  verdict  was  rendered. 

"I'll  take  you  for  a  half-dozen  ounces,"  replied  the 
foreman  of  the  jury,  who  was  none  other  than  our 
old  friend,  Hank  Seymour,  "fur  it's  the  only  time  I 
ever  had  a  dead  thing  on  you.  And  now,  my  dying 
friend,  let  me  give  you  a  little  advice.  Select  the 
spot  you  want  to  buried  in,  and  engage  your  under- 
taker." 

"Thank  you  for  your  advice,  but  I  guess  it  hain't 


o(53  EARLY  TIMES. 

any  use  to  take  it,  for  I  tell  you  that  I'll  be  riding 
over  these  mountains  when  your  bones  are  bleaching 
in  the  wind." 

"Ef  you  do  ride  over  these  hills  after  to-day,  it  will 
be  as  a  first-class  ghost,  for  you  will  be  a  dead  man 
in  an  hour  from  now." 

At  this  moment  Gabe  Husker  approached  the  pris- 
oner and  said:  "I  hope  you'll  'scuze  me  for  the  part 
I've  taken  in  this  matter,  and  b'lieve  that  I've  only 
done  my  dooty  to  my  feller-citizens.  You  have  had 
a  fair  trial,  'cording  to  the  by-laws  of  Missouri,  and  I 
hope  the  decision  is  agreeable  to  you." 

"I  hain't  got  nothing  to  say  agin  it;  it's  all  been 
conducted  on  the  square ;  nary  Jack  was  turned  from 
the  bottom.  I  am  satisfied  with  everything  so  far. 
But  you'll  be  doing  me  a  favor  if  you'll  hurry  up  mat- 
ters a  little  and  get  through  with  it.  I  am  anxious  to 
get  back  to  my  game.  I'm  losin'  a  heap  of  money 
through  the  dern  foolishness  of  you  fellers." 

"You  had  better  be  puttin'  your  cards  in  order  for 
a  game  in  the  other  world,  'cause  you'll  soon  be  a 
lay-out  for  the  devil,"  remarked  a  bystander. 

"May  be  you  have  something  to  bet  that  my  lamp 
goes  out  to-day?" 

"Yes,  I  have." 

"Look  here,  Dave,  you  are  making  a  dern  fool  of 
yourself,"  exclaimed  the  gambler,  who  had  acted  as 
the  prisoner's  counsel.  "You  are  a  bettin'  agin  yer- 
self.  The  fust  thing  you  know  you'll  have  so  many 
bets  out  that  these  fellers  will  lift  you  outen  the  world 
fur  to  win  their  bets.     My  advice  to  you  is  to  prepare 


AK  Alll/L   TO  A  HIGHER    COURT.  „f,r4 

to  shuffle.  'Tain't  no  use  lookin'  at  fate  with  your 
eyes  shut.  These  fellers  mean  business,  and  hav  got 
it  in  fur  you." 

"You  are  mistaken  in  your  knowledge  of  the  game 
of  human  natur.  Thar  ain't  goin'  to  be  no  hangin' 
so  far  as  I'm  consarned.  Dog  on  it,  hain't  I  told  yer 
that  a  fortune-teller  read  it  in  the  stars  that  I  was 
born'd  to  be  drownded ;  and,  if  I  am  to  be  drownded, 
I  can't  be  hanged!" 

"I'm  afeard  the  fortune-teller  had  lost  the  run  of  the 
cards  when  he  told  you  that.  Thar  ain't  no  chance 
for  yer  neck  now." 

The  sheriff,  accompanied  by  several  men  who  had 
been  erecting  a  gallows  under  a  tree,  which  grew  near 
by,  now  entered  and  took  charge  of  the  prisoner, 
whom  they  conducted  to  the  scene  where  the  last  act 
of  the  drama  was  to  be  played.  The  preliminaries 
were  quickly  made,  the  rope  placed  around  the  neck 
of  the  doomed  man,  and  when  everything  was  in 
readiness,  the  prisoner  was  asked  if  he  had  anything 
to  say  before  he  was  launched  into  eternity. 

"This  'ere  joke  has  gone  fur  enough,  and  as  my 
feet  are  gettin'  cold,  I  wish  you  would  wind  it  up. 
I'm  tired  of  bein'  fooled  with." 

The  sheriff  now  addressed  the  prisoner,  saying: 
"You  have  been  tried  according  to  the  laws  of  the 
State  of  Missouri ;  you  have  been  found  guilty,  and 
the  time  for  the  execution  of  the  sentence  of  the 
Court  has  arrived.  I,  therefore,  must  proceed  to  per- 
form my  dooty." 

"I  say,  hold  on.     I  appeal  this  'ere  case  to  the  Su- 

21 


^^  EARLY  TIMES. 

preme  Court  of  Missouri,"  said  the  prisoner,  "and 
you  can't  carry  out  the  sentence  until  after  the  appeal 
has  been  decided." 

This  change  in  the  aspect  of  affairs  somewhat  stag- 
gered the  crowd,  and  delayed  the  execution  a  short 
while.  Judge  Husker  was  called  upon  to  give  his 
views  upon  the  case,  and  did  so,  as  follows : 

"The  prisoner  was  tried  by  Missouri  law,  found 
guilty,  and  sentenced  to  death  by  the  law ;  and  thar 
cannot  be  a  doubt  about  his  right  to  appeal  to  the 
Supreme  Court  of  Missouri.  So  fur  so  good.  But 
courts  are  always  in  the  habit  of  goin'  on  until  the 
Supreme  Court  issues  its  mandamus  stayin'  perceed- 
in's.  Therefore  the  sentence  of  this  court  will  be 
carried  out,  unless  properly  stayed  by  a  mandamus. 
Ef  the  perceedin's  ain't  reg'lar,  they  can  be  reviewed 
when  the  case  reaches  the  higher  court." 

The  decision  of  his  Honor  was  received  with  a 
shout,  the  prisoner  said,  "all  right,  go  ahead."  The 
sheriff  gave  the  signal  and  the  trap  was  sprung. 
The  rope  broke,  letting  the  murderer  drop  in  the  snow 
beneath  the  scaffold.  He  struggled  to  his  feet,  re- 
turned to  the  scaffold,  and  looking  over  the  crowd, 
said: 

"Thar,  didn't  I  tell  yer  that  I  couldn't  be  hung? 
I  claim  my  bets.  Now,  gentlemen,  as  this  show  is 
over,  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  attendance,  and  all 
of  you  as  has  got  any  money  and  wants  a  lay-out  at 
faro,  just  foller  me  and  I'll  give  you  a  lively  game." 

He  turned  to  leave  the  scaffold,  when  he  was  met 
by  the  sheriff,  who  held  in  his  hand  a  much  stronger 


THE  LAST  ACT.  ~  *, 

0/ 


rope  than  the  one  first  used.  This  was  soon  knotted 
about  the  neck  of  the  victim,  who  looked  at  the  rope 
and  then  at  the  faces  surrounding  him,  but  failed  to 
see  any  sympathy  for  him. 

"See  here,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "this  'ere  thing 
has  become  serious,  and  before  you  make  another 
pull,  give  me  time  to  change  my  bets.  I'll  copper 
the  fortune-teller  this  time,  and  play  him  to  lose, 
'cause  I  b'leeve  you  fellers  can  call  the  turn." 

He  stopped  speaking,  waived  his  hand  to  the  Sher- 
iff as  a  signal  to  proceed,  and  in  a  moment  more  the 
unfortunate  man  was  standing  in  the  presence  of  Him 
who  judgeth  all  things. 

"Times  are  right  peart  on  Rabbit  Creek,"  said 
Hank  Seymour  to  Gabe  Husker,  as  they  turned  to 
leave  the  scene  of  execution. 

"Yes,  right  peart,"  was  the  reply. 

At  this  point  the  doctor,  who  had  apparently  been 
asleep  for  the  last  hour,  rolled  over  in  his  blankets 
and,  with  a  yawn,  inquired : 

"And  how  long  did  you  remain  on  Rabbit  Creek 
after  all  that  took  place,  Don  Carlos?" 

"Oh,  not  long;  I  left  the  next  day,  I  believe." 

"Well,  that  is  just  what  I'd  have  advised  you  to 
do  if  I'd  been  there." 

"So  would  anybody  else  if  they  knew  you  were 
practicing  your  profession  there,  and  I  ran  any  risk 
of  requiring  medical  advice.  It  is  a  pity  that  many 
of  your  patients  don't  have  somebody  to  give  them 
the  same  advice  in  season  to  be  of  use  to  them! " 


~~2  EARLY   TIMES. 

Charley  evidently  took  the  doctor's  attempted 
pleasantry  a  little  ungraciously,  and  the  subject  was 
dropped. 

This  reprehensible-propensity  for  betting  on  every 
possible  subject  is  a  peculiarity  of  California,  and 
crops  out  distinctly  on  all  occasions.  Your  genuine 
Californian,  whether  of  Spanish  origin  and  to  the 
manner  born,  or  Yankee  by  habit  and  only  a  son  of 
the  Golden  State  by  adoption,  has  two  peculiarities 
which  strike  a  stranger  most  forcibly,  next  to  his  par- 
donable admiration  for  everything  Californian,  and,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  contempt  for  anything  which  is 
not.  He  is  perfectly  cosmopolitan  in  his  sympathy 
for  misfortune,  want,  or  suffering,  and  ready  to  give 
on  the  instant  with  reckless  liberality,  to  any  person 
or  cause  appealing  to  him  for  assistance,  and  is  ever 
ready  to  bet  his  last  dollar,  the  shirt  off  his  back,  or 
the  boots  off  his  feet,  for  or  against  any  proposition 
on  any  subject  which  any  person  may  advance  in  his 
hearing.  Say  to  him,  "Mrs.  Smith,  who  has  seven 
fatherless  children,  lost  her  house  by  fire  last  night," 
and  he  answers,  ''That  is  all  I  want  to  hear,  bet  your 
life,  old  boy !  Here  is  all  the  loose  change  I  have 
got  about  me;  but  if  you  cannot  make  up  enough, 
come  again  and  I'll  give  you  a  check!"  Does  he 
ride  in  a  stage-coach  over  the  Sierra  Nevada,  and  in 
turning  a  short  curve  it  misses  stays  and  goes  over 
the  precipice — a  by  no  means  uncommon  occurrence 
— he  improves  the  opportunity  as  the  vehicle  goes 
crashing  over  the  rocks,  to  shout  in  his  neighbor's 
ear,  "I  go  you  the  drinks  for  all  hands,  that  over  half 


the  betting  mania.  „-., 

of  us  ain't  killed!"  This  betting  is  confined  to  no 
class  or  race ;  it  pervades  society  from  its  out-crop- 
pings  on  the  surface  down  to  the  bed-rock.  It  ap- 
pears to  be  inherent  in  the  air.  Juan,  the  native  Cali- 
fornian  or  Mexican,  bets  his  week's  earnings  in  the 
mine  on  the  color  of  the  seeds  of  a  watermelon  which 
he  bought  for  a  dime,  on  the  result  of  a  break-neck 
race  between  two  wild  mustangs,  ridden  by  two  wild- 
er vaqueros,  on  the  issue  of  a  cock-fight,  or  the  turn 
of  a  card,  loses,  and  is  happy.  John,  from  the  Celes- 
tial Empire,  bets  his  money,  earned  by  the  hardest 
kind  of  hard  work,  on  the  game  of  "Than,"  or  "Tan," 
or  on  the  Chinese  game  of  dominoes.  Jonathan, 
from  "away  down  east,"  loses  all  regard  for  his  early 
schooling,  and  bets  his  pile  on  anything,  no  matter 
how  absurd. 

The  native  Indians  are  as  fond  of  betting  as  the 
native  or  imported  Californian  of  Caucasian  blood. 
Once  upon  a  time  I  found  myself  on  the  bank  of  the 
Colorado  River,  among  the  stalwart  Mojaves,  the 
largest  and  finest  race  of  Indians  on  the  continent. 
An  old  sub-chief  had  traded  with  a  gold  hunter  for 
a  Spanish  jackass,  known  as  a  buro  in  Spanish- Amer- 
ican countries,  and  was  riding  him  up  and  down  the 
river-bank  in  great  state,  as  full  of  new-born  dignity 
as  the  King  of  all  the  Mosquitoes,  when  he  mounts  a 
new  breech-clout,  and  is  saluted  as  "His  Royal  High- 
ness, the  good  friend  and  ally  of  Her  Majesty,  Vic- 
toria, by  the  grace  of  God,"  etc.,  etc.  Unluckily,  at 
the  moment  of  his  supreme  happiness,  a  fellow  Mo- 
jave  dared  him  to  play  a  game  of  the  swindling  crib- 


EARLY  TIMES. 

bage  with  Spanish  cards,  so  much  affected  by  the  red 
sons  of  the  burning  desert.  The  banter  was  ac- 
cepted, down  went  both  parties  on  their  bellies  in  the 
dirt,  a  ring  of  admiring  spectators  was  formed,  and 
the  game  commenced.  My  chief  lost,  and  in  an  in- 
stant loud  jeers  arose  on  all  sides;  they  resemble 
"Melican  man"  astonishingly,  and  have  no  sympathy 
for  the  man  who  gets  cleaned  out.  Without  a  word, 
and  with  a  face  as  impassive  and  devoid  of  expression 
of  any  kind  as  a  side  of  sole-leather,  the  grim  old 
warrior  arose  and  walked  to  the  spot  where  the  buro 
was  tied.  Taking  the  cord  in  his  hand,  he  solemnly 
lead  the  diminutive  animal  to  his  new  owner  and 
formally  delivered  him.  Thus  much  for  his  word,  but 
now  for  revenge  for  insulted  dignity.  As  the  winner 
stretched  out  his  hand  and  took  the  rope,  the  loser, 
quick  as  lightning,  drew  a  long,  sharp  knife,  and  at 
one  blow  cut  through  the  buro's  neck,  and  dropped 
him  in  his  tracks,  "as  dead  as  Kelsey's  hen,"  then 
turned  away  in  gloomy  silence  and  sought  his  first 
and  ugliest  wife,  doubtless  with  the  intention  of  giv- 
ing her  a  good  drubbing  on  general  principles. 

I  had  at  that  moment  a  fragmentary  suit  of  clothes 
in  which  I  had  just  crossed  the  desert.  The  shirt  was 
of  many  colors — mostly  of  earthen  hue — and  the  col- 
lar was  as  stiff  with  sweat  and  dust  as  a  piece  of 
sheet-iron.  The  drawers  had  once  been  of  woollen 
goods,  and  had  a  seat  to  them,  but  from  contact  with 
the  saddle  and  the  great  heat  of  the  atmosphere,  had 
done  their  work,  and  there  was  a  frightful  vacancy 
where  the  seat  had  been.     The  socks  were  pretty 


PLAYING    TO  STR1F.  ~jc 

much  of  a  piece  with  the  shirt,  and  the  cravat  ditto. 
A  fit  of  generosity  came  over  me.  I  had  donned  a 
new  suit  of  under-clothing,  and  the  old  one  was 
worthless ;  I  could  afford  to  be  liberal.  Calling  a 
young  buck,  I  bade  him  strip  himself,  put  the  shirt, 
drawers — what  there  was  left  of  them — socks  and 
neck-tie  upon  him,  turned  the  collar  of  the  shirt  up 
so  that  it  reached  nearly  to  the  top  of  his  head, 
and  then  turned  him  loose.  I  saw  him  going  down 
to  the  encampment  or  rancheria  all  right,  with  two 
buxom  squaws  following  admiringly  behind  him,  the 
condition  of  his  drawers  being  no  draw-back  on  his 
appearance  in  that  society.  I  felt  that  I  had  done  a 
noble  thing  and  made  a  fellow- creature  happy.  Judge 
of  my  surprise,  not  to  say  disgust,  when  I  came  back 
an  hour  later  and  found  him  stretched  at  full  length 
on  the  dusty  earth,  playing  cards  for  the  various  arti- 
cles of  clothing  I  had  bestowed  upon  him,  with  a 
hump-backed  squaw  and  two  gallant  young  bloods 
belonging  to  the  first  families  of  the  Mojaves.  They 
had  played  everything  off  him  but  the  neck-tie  when 
I  arrived,  and,  clad  in  that  light  and  airy  costume 
only,  he  was  then  gambling  for  that,  with  a  fair  chance 
of  losing.  I  almost  felt  like  giving  him  a  new  rig, 
but  did  not  on  reflection. 

I  was  once  walking  along  one  of  the  streets  of 
that  part  of  San  Francisco  most  expressively  known 
as  the  Barbary  Coast,  where  "pirates,  rovers  and  as- 
sailing thieves"  most  do  congregate  to  prey  upon  the 
unwary,  in  company  with  a  friend,  a  well-known  phy- 
sician, when  we  heard  a  shot,  and  saw  a  man  bare- 


376  EARLY  TIMES. 

headed  and  in  his  shirt-sleeves  run  out  of  a  house  and 
dash  into  an  alley,  pursued  by  a  crowd  of  policemen 
and  citizens  who  chanced  to  be  in  the  vicinity,  all 
joining  with  a  will  in  the  chase.  The  pursued  ran 
like  a  deer,  turned  and  doubled  on  his  pursuers,  and 
climbed  fences,  and  went  over  low  buildings  into  all 
sorts  of  out-of-the-way  places  to  escape,  but  in  vain. 
At  every  turn  his  pursuers  increased  in  number,  and 
he  was  constantly  headed  off  and  more  nearly  cor- 
nered. Several  times  a  policeman  raised  his  revolver 
to  bring  him  down,  but  did  not  fire — for  a  wonder — 
lest  he  should  hit  somebody  else ;  and  as  often  the 
pursued  would  drive  back  his  volunteer  pursuers  who 
were  closing  around  him,  by  pointing  at  them  a  pis- 
tol, with  one  barrel  of  which  he  had  just  shot  his  ex- 
mistress  through  the  head,  and  shouting  to  them  to 
keep  out  of  reach  or  he  would  give  them  the  con- 
tents. Surrounded  at  last,  he  sat  down  in  an  area, 
placed  his  head  against  a  fence,  and  putting  the  pistol 
to  his  head,  sent  a  bullet  crashing  through  his  skull, 
before  a  policeman  who  was  hard  upon  him  could 
catch  his  hand.  The  doctor  and  myself  were  in  the 
area  in  a  minute  more,  and  two  men  who  had  followed 
him  in  all  his  turnings  were  close  behind  us.  The 
doctor  stooped  to  raise  the  head  of  the  miserable  sui- 
cide, just  as  one  of  these  men  exclaimed,  "He  is  dead 
as  a  mackerel!"  "Hold  on,  doctor,  don't  touch  him 
yet!"  said  the  other,  reaching  out  to  prevent  the  doc- 
tor's hand  falling  upon  him,  and  then  turning  to  his 
friend,  "I'll  bet  you  $5  that  he  ain't!"  "Done!"  said 
the  other.     "Is  he  dead,  doctor?"     "Dead  as  the 


DROWNED,  OR  NOT?  ^yy 

bull-rushes  around  little  Moses!"  was  the  doctor's  re- 
ply. "Here  is  your  money.  Blame  me,  I  never 
could  win,  even  when  I  bet  on  a  dead  thing!"  said 
the  loser  with  a  grim  pleasantry,  as  he  turned  away. 

The  writer  was  riding  once  on  the  Cliff  House 
road  on  a  pet  mustang  which,  when  pushed,  would  win 
a  race  or  kill  somebody  in  the  attempt.  A  friend  came 
up  on  a  livery-stable  nag  which  he  fancied  had  speed 
in  him,  and  said  to  me,  "I  have  got  an  animal  here 
that  can  beat  yours!"  Another  acquaintance  stand- 
ing near,  who  knew  both  animals,  replied  on  the  in- 
stant, "When,  where,  how  far,  and  for  how  much?" 
The  race  was  made  inside  of  half  a  minute  by  the  re- 
ply, "Now,  here,  a  mile,  and  for  twenty  dollars."  I 
afterwards  had  some  of  that  money. 

In  the  latter  part  .of  1867,  the  ferry  steamer 
Washoe  was  crossing  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco  to 
Oakland  just  at  night-fall,  when  a  passenger  who  had 
been  watching  a  suspiciously  -  acting  man,  thinking 
him  probably  a  thief,  saw  him  creep  stealthily  to  the 
stern  of  the  boat,  look  around  to  see  if  he  was 
watched,  and  then  jump  overboard.  The  cry,  "man 
overboard!"  was  raised  in  an  instant,  the  steamer 
stopped,  and  a  boat  was  lowered  to  look  for  the 
drowning  man.  He  could  not  be  seen  in  the  water, 
and  the  man  who  raised  the  cry  was  accused  by  some- 
body of  selling  the  crowd ;  he  had  not  seen  anybody 
jump  overboard  at  all.  He  swore  he  had,  and  would 
lick  any  man  who  said  he  did  not.  He  found  an  in- 
dividual ready  to  accept  the  proposition,  and  licked 
his  man.     The  boat  started  on,  and  the  discussion 


07S  EARLY  TIMES. 

waxed  warmer  as  it  got  nearer  the  landing.  At  last 
a  bet  of  five  dollars  was  offered  that  no  man  had 
jumped  overboard,  and  a  taker  was  found  at  once ; 
had  the  first  party  offered  to  bet  that  a  man  did  jump 
overboard,  number  two  would  have  been  equally 
ready  to  bet  the  other  way.  The  money  was  placed  in 
the  hands  of  the  bar-keeper,  and  left  there  until  he 
should  decide  who  won.  Next  day  it  was  discovered 
that  A.  Marius  Chappelle,  at  one  time  one  of  the 
wealthiest  men  in  San  Francisco,  impelled  by  the  fear 
of  becoming  insane — a  fear  which  was  the  effect  of  in- 
sanity itself — had  loaded  himself  down  with  old  iron, 
jumped  overboard  and  gone  immediately  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  bay,  never  to  rise  again  alive,  he  having 
left  letters  on  shore  announcing  his  determination  to 
drown  himself.  The  money  was  paid  over  to  the 
winner  on  this  discovery  being  made  known. 

A  man  known  as  "Little  Zeke"  applied  one  day 
for  a  position  on  the  police  force  of  San  Francisco. 
His  appearance  at  the  police  office  was  the  signal  for 
a  regular  burst  of  laughter.  His  face  had  called  up  a 
ludicrous  reminiscence  of  old  times.  Some  years  ago 
an  animated  contest  was  going  on  between  Frank 
Whitney  and  James  Nuttman  for  the  office  of  Chief 
Engineer  of  the  Fire  Department,  and  the  present 
applicant  for  the  silver  star  was  an  excited  and  deeply 
devoted  partisan  of  the  latter.  Little  Zeke  was  in  a 
saloon  where  Whitney  had  his  headquarters,  late  in 
the  evening  of  election  day,  pretty  well  panned  out 
and  deeply  dejected,  but  still  clinging  to  the  hope  of 
his  friend's  election,  as  a  drowning  kitten  will  cling  to 


BETTING  HIS  EYE.  o-g 

a  stick.  There  was  a  rush  at  the  door,  and  a  friend 
of  Whitney,  half  breathless,  crowded  in  and  an- 
nounced that  Frank  was  elected.  At  that,  Little 
Zeke,  struggling  wonderfully  to  suppress  the  sobs 
which  rose  in  his  throat  and  would  choke  his  utter- 
ance in  spite  of  him,  exclaimed: 

"Well,  boys,  I  (sob)  am  dead  busted — have  treated 
away  all  my  money,  but  this  eye  cost  (sob)  fifty  dol- 
lars (sob,  sob),  and  I  'II  put  that  tip  agin  twenty -five 
that  fim  Nuttman  wins,  after  all ! ' ' 

As  he  said  that,  he  ran  his  finger  under  his  glass 
eye,  and  slipping  it  out  of  the  socket,  laid  it  defiantly 
down  on  the  counter,  glaring  around  at  the  crowd 
with  a  single  optic  and  an  unsightly  hole  in  his  head. 
One  of  the  opposition  was  just  hauling  out  his  money 
to  see  Little  Zeke  on  the  glass  eye  bet,  when  one  of 
Nuttman's  friends  came  in  and  said:  "We  give  it 
up — Jim's  beaten ! "  Whereupon,  Little  Zeke  snatched 
up  his  eye,  slipped  it  back  into  the  socket,  and  started 
out  on  the  run,  while  yells  of  laughter  from  the  crowd 
made  the  building  fairly  shake. 

Such  are  some  of  the  eccentricities  of  Californians. 


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